Reflections
by starry-oblivion
Summary: The definitions of normalcy have to be reworked when a young woman discovers that science fiction is no longer fiction and that mutants, among other things, do exist. Rated T for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

_I should _not_ be doing this._

Of course, that didn't really matter at the moment. Whether she should be doing it or not, Allison was most indefinitely walking down a deserted street in Brooklyn a few minutes before nine o'clock at night. Wrapping her sweatshirt tighter around her, she tried not to think of the fact that this is how tons of slasher movies start out.

A particularly strong gust of wind blew, ripping through her thin sweatshirt and causing her to gasp as she hunched over to protect herself from the cold. She hadn't thought that it was this freezing outside, and even if she had, she certainly wouldn't have thought that her car would have broken down right in the middle of her trip back home. _If only I hadn't been such a schmuck and insisted that I see Rob tonight._

Robert, her best friend and co-worker, was seven years older than her and had an eight-month-old daughter. His girlfriend had passed away during childbirth, and so Allison gladly offered to help raise the girl. Robert usually refused, but there were certain things he believed that only a woman with maternal instincts could really take care of, such as a 101-degree fever. At Robert's frantic phone call, Allison jumped into her car and sped over, rather than do the sensible thing and tell him to take her to the emergency room. Thankfully, by the time she got there, the fever had subsided somewhat and turned into a cold. Robert insisted he could handle it and thanked her, and so Allison returned home after fussing over the baby for an hour and a half. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that the fan belt on her car tended to loosen at high speeds, leaving her stranded on Flatbush Avenue. Having left her cell phone at home and deciding that she would rather sprint the rest of the eleven blocks home rather than be a sitting duck for the rapists, muggers, and murderers she would otherwise encounter, she had zipped up her sweatshirt and prayed that her car would still be there in the morning.

_Holy mother of God_, she thought as she braced herself against another onslaught of wind and glanced up at a street sign. Palmetto Avenue. Had she taken a wrong turn? _What a time to get lost. _Looking down a residential street, Allison thought she might have seen the bustling cars and bright lights of Myrtle Avenue. If she turned that way and got onto Myrtle, she would be able to easily find her way back. Of course, there were four long, dark blocks that needed to be ventured if she took that route, but another gust of wind made up her mind for her.

Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, she felt to make sure her switchblade was there and took it out. Releasing the blade, she carefully clenched the knife and snuck her hand up her sleeve, so her weapon wasn't visible. Having grown up in East New York, Allison knew that a girl walking the streets at night usually attracted the wrong kind of attention, and she made sure that she would always be prepared to _deal_ with this attention. Putting her hood on and hoping the wind wouldn't blow it off yet again, she quickened her pace as she made her way towards the dark, foreboding buildings that stood in between her and civilization. _And a possible bus. No way am I gonna walk home from Myrtle Avenue in _this_ weather._

There were times when she thought she heard footsteps, but remembered that the apartment buildings on this side of town were built close together, making her own footfalls echo into the chilly night. They also provided a multitude of inky shadows. Allison didn't know whether to be terrified or relieved. She should be terrified at the thought that someone could easily be hiding in those shadows, but she felt mildly relieved at the thought of being able to hide _herself_ in the shadows, and thus keep out of sight from anyone who might incite her to use her knife.

She stopped suddenly. She could have sworn that she heard a grating sound, such as metal scraping across metal. _Don't stop. Don't give away you know anything. That will only make them hostile. When dealing with bad guys, _always_ play dumb._ Making it seem like she had only been stretching her back, Allison kept going. She felt tense, but was determined not to hurry her footsteps. Keeping it steady will give a perpetrator confidence enough to screw up. Ah, the benefits of watching a lot of stalker movies.

_What was that?_

Tilting her head but not changing her pace, Allison listened intently. Laughter. Men's laughter. The wind carried it from somewhere up ahead of her. And there was another sound beneath it. A soft, mewling sound, almost drowned out by the intonations of sarcasm and cruelty. Someone was in trouble. And as though her course was frozen by the cold, Allison found herself walking right into it.

Gripping her knife so tightly that all feeling in her hand disappeared, Allison's eyes drifted over to her right, to the opposite side of the street. There was a narrow alleyway between two rundown buildings; a streetlight some yards away barely touching the outskirts of it. Inside, a shadow shifted and others descended upon the smaller form, like vultures upon a carcass. Allison hadn't realized that she had stopped directly parallel to the alley's entrance, her human curiosity getting the better of her terror. Yes, it seemed a woman was being attacked by a group of men. The number was indeterminable, but the vast bulk of each man was not. Their hushed voices and unsuppressed snickers rang in Allison's ears, and she tried to will herself to some sort of action. _Dammit, if only I had my cell phone. I could call the cops. But they haven't seen me. I could run for it, then call for the police from a payphone on Myrtle. But if I run, I might attract their attention…._

The lengthy deliberation proved to be to her disadvantage. She was apparently spotted, for a tall, slender figure stepped away from the mass of shadows and stood in the center of the alleyway, looking out towards her side of the street. In a more audible voice than the whispers and tauntings, the figure stated, "Well, well. Looks like we got ourselves an audience."

The acknowledgement broke Allison's paralysis. She stepped backwards hurriedly, allowing the shadows on her end of the street to swallow her as the figure and one of his larger comrades emerged from their niche. Hoping they couldn't see her now and be able to tell what direction she went, Allison ran as soundlessly as she could towards Myrtle Avenue, pushing her knife hand out of her sleeve to allow for an easier access. She heard a clamor of footsteps behind her, and wondered frantically how many of them _were_ there, and whether or not she was going to be just another article in the morning paper.

Then she heard it again. The sound of metal scraping against something. It came from somewhere below her, but she couldn't tell from where and didn't stop to find out. That is, until she heard the _whoosh!_ as a heavy object cut through the air and a thick _whump clang!_ Confused as to what sort of weapons would make that kind of sound, Allison peered behind her shoulder… and stopped dead in her tracks.

Another _clang_ pierced the air as the heavy object dropped from its acquired target—that being one of her pursuers—and landed on the ground with a circling motion. As her would-be assailant hit the ground, Allison saw that the ammunition had been… a manhole cover. She looked along the street that stood between herself and the alleyway and saw an open sewer hole gaping out of the ground like an unforgiving eye. _Someone hurled a manhole cover at him! But who? There was no one else on the street!_

The other thugs lurched out of the alley, peering to see what had befallen their friend. Allison watched as unseen hands grabbed one of them from the shadows, and he was pulled into darkness with a guttural, "What th-?" An abrupt grunt came from the mouth that was now invisible to Allison and she flinched, taking a step backwards. As this silenced punk flew out of the darkness and landed across the street a few yards in front of her, Allison shuddered and wondered what she had gotten herself into. Sounds of surprise and confusion came from the remaining criminals as more of them—some from one side, some from the other, and others from behind—were captured by the unseen forces that seemed to stem from the shadows themselves.

Suddenly, from out of the throng ran a thin young girl. She was in her underwear, her clothes gathered hurriedly to her chest. She had a gag of sorts over her mouth and removed this gag in wide-eyed panic as she flew from the chaotic scene, past Allison. One of her assailants, a broad-shouldered, blue-haired twenty-something, sprinted after her, though he could just as very well have been running away from the fiasco. However, whoever organized this haphazard rescue party didn't want to take any chances. Allison let out a short, alarmed cry as another manhole cover seemed to fly out of nowhere and connect directly with the back of the young hooligan's head. She raised a hand to cover her mouth as she saw the spray of blood that left the man's mouth as he slumped over, either lifeless or soon-to-be.

As before, the macabre scene held Allison firmly in place. Bodies flew and shouts were silenced… and blood spilled. The lone streetlight caught the glint of weapons so massive that Allison's switchblade looked like nothing more than a plastic knife. _Swords? Are those… but that over there? _That_ doesn't look like a sword._ What was she seeing? Shadowy apparitions were incapacitating at least a dozen very dangerous-looking rapists who appeared to be armed with everything from chains to guns, and all she could do was stand there in shock with a trembling hand over her mouth. Surely, this is the way the heroine always gets killed in the movies, so why didn't she move?

Her eyes were so focused on the brawl in front of her that she failed to acknowledge her peripheral vision. A flash of red appeared out of the corner of her eye and she turned swiftly, her knife hand extended towards the dark figure. As she turned, she noted his short, stocky build, but didn't get a chance to register what he looked like before he leapt back into the shadows. "Careful with the butter knife, kid," said a low, gruff voice. "Ya might hurt someone."

Absolutely terrified, Allison began to take panicked steps backwards, and only went faster when she saw that the figure was approaching her, what looked like a gloved hand extended towards her. He seemed to be about to give some sort of cautionary warning, but his reluctance to step closer caused Allison to back herself right into the arms of the tremendously large thug that had initially been chasing after her. One massive arm encircled her torso, pinning her arms to her side, as she realized that he must have stayed hidden in the shadows until he saw a chance to come out. The heavy contact brought a wave of vomit to her.

"Now, you twerps are gonna drop the crazy knives," her captor's voice boomed out. Allison's eyes widened when she felt the cold metal that could only be that of the barrel of a gun suddenly press against her temple. "Or the nosey bitch is going haunt you bastards' nightmares for the rest of your lives. Allison trembled. _My life depends on _shadows_. Holy Christ. I was better off on Palmetto Avenue._

"What makes you say that?" Allison's eyes returned to the hidden figure that she had backed away from. He had gotten a little closer to them, making his bulky form visible. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Allison could make out something strange about the way he was dressed, but didn't bother dwelling on it for too long. "I've never seen the kid before today; you really think you can blow her brains out and we'll all be too shocked to move?"

"Watch your mouth, asshole," the captor growled next to Allison's ear. From her right, the shadowy figure's companions seemed to be drawing close together. She was jerked towards them, as though seeing her full-on in a helpless position would stop them in their tracks. It worked. Unfortunately, there was a loudmouth amongst them who wasn't about to let up.

"Once she's gone, I'll just get a clear shot of your heart anyway. Or your gut. Yeah, that's more painful. And you'll live through most of it, too."

"I swear to God, you little freak-"

"Raph, cut it out." The voice came from among the group of silhouettes in front of Allison. However, this "Raph" didn't seem to be one to follow reason. "Or," he continued, "if I wanted to be _really_ evil, I could go for the balls. That'd be even _more_ satisfying."

"Goddamn you!" The thug's voice was loud with either anger or fear, and it reverberated off the walls, hurting Allison's ears. Suddenly, she felt the pressure of the gun move away from her temple, and she quickly saw this as her chance.

Remembering the knife that was gripped in her fist, Allison jerked her hand backwards, towards the assailant's leg. Her cold hand was greeted by a hot flow of blood as a booming scream filled the night, accentuated by a very loud _bang!_ Her veins pounding with a rush of adrenaline, Allison took the chance that the slacked grip about her offered and freed her left arm, sharply elbowing her captor in the ribs hard enough to practically dislocate her own shoulder. He completely backed away from her and she ripped the knife out of his leg and made a sharp turn, stabbing him again in his arm, where she knew the brachial artery was. _Bleed, bastard._

However, even injured as he now was, he still stood over a foot taller than her and had at least a 150-pound weight advantage on her. His gun hand rose and fell soundly across her face, knocking her to the ground. She heard hurried footsteps approaching her and thought she saw someone running towards her, a large stick of sorts in his hand. The feet disappeared, and it seemed that they connected with the thug, for she heard the sound of something very heavy falling to the ground.

Her face stung, both with pain and the cold, and for a moment she could do nothing more than lie on the cracked pavement. She had landed on her shoulder, and knew it was bruised. Trying to flex her hand proved that her palm had been badly scraped upon contact with the ground. But she was alive. And so was that girl, wherever she had run off to.

A light touch fell on her side. "Are you all right?" The voice was kind, but seemed preoccupied. She parted her lips, but realized that her bottom lip was split down the middle, making even that small movement excruciatingly painful. Upon hearing no response, the voice became even more urgent, and the shifting shadows proved that he had moved closer. "Hey, lady, are you okay?" Two fingers moved to her neck, feeling for a pulse. _No,_ she realized sorely_. Those aren't two fingers. That's _one_. One very large finger._ Deciding that she must be delusional, Allison somehow forced herself to nod.

At the movement, the finger moved away from her neck, and a hand fell soothingly on her head, brushing her long thick hair away from her face. "Your pulse is steadier than I had thought. You must be a tough one." A moment of silence passed, and Allison began flexing her hand, biting back the stinging pain. She was dazed and sore, but in no way vitally injured. After this realization, she was about to break the silence, when the voice at her side asked, "How is he?"

Confused, Allison was about to ask to whom he was referring when a worried voice answered him. "Dunno, dude. The blood's black. Is that a bad thing?" A small, concerned sound came out of the person who still had his oddly-shaped hand on Allison's head. "Yeah. It's _very_ bad."

"Bullshit," said the same gruff voice that had taunted the assailant enough to allow for Allison's escape. "I'm fine. Never better." The hand on Allison's head disappeared, and she felt that the being had moved away from her, towards where the voices were. "This is no joke, Raphael. That's way too close to your heart for my comfort."

"Idiot. My heart's down _here_, not up _here_."

A fourth voice came in. "Have we got anything back at the lair that can take care of this?" The person who had been at Allison's side responded, "No, I don't think so. I mean, we might, but none of it is sterile enough for me to want to use on a wound like _that_." Haughtily, the sarcastic voice broke in, "Who needs sterile? I'll just carve the bullet out with _this_."

"Raphael, put that sai down or I'm knocking you unconscious with my hilt!"

"Sure Leo, I'm sure _that_ will solve everything."

_Bullet?_ It was then that Allison remembered. As she got the creep in the leg, he managed to squeeze off a shot. The gun hadn't been aimed at her, and the wise guy was really getting under the attacker's skin. So, it was safe to assume…. _My God, someone just got shot because of me._

Slowly, Allison managed to pull her head up and turned to look towards the voices. They were still in the shadows, and it amazed her that they could see in that darkness. One of them—"Raphael"—was sitting sprawled on the ground, and the rest seemed to be crouched besides him. There was something peculiar about their stature, but Allison blamed it on the fact that her senses had just been knocked out of her.

"Surgical supplies."

Shadowed faces turned to look at her. "What?" Slowly propping herself up on her elbows, Allison shook her head firmly, as though trying to regain her wits. Spitting out a wad of blood from her lips, she explained, "There's a surgical supplies store on Myrtle Avenue, about four blocks away. You could get… whatever you need." Fighting off another wave of nausea as the situation overwhelmed her for another second, she forced herself up onto her knees, wavering a bit and holding her arms out for balance. The four figures seemed to be consulting each other with glances at one another. Gingerly placing a hand on her cheek to be sure it wasn't swollen, she added, "I could get them for you. You know, if you wanted to stay here with him before an ambulance gets here. As a way to… to thank you."

There seemed to be another moment of silent consultation before one of them stood up and faced her. His voice was kind and confident, and she managed to recognize it as the one that had been called "Leo." "If you could do that, we would be highly grateful… if you're well enough, that is." As though to prove her point, Allison pushed herself onto her feet, staggering for a moment before catching herself, and then almost falling backward over the legs of the unconscious thug. The voice of the injured individual commented, "And my life depends on _that_?"

"Hey dude, chill out. It's not _her_ fault you got shot." The one called Leo agreed. "Michelangelo's right." Turning his attention back to Allison, he told her, "If you're willing and able, then, go and pick up the stuff and head to the corner of St. Nicholas and Greene. Mike will meet you there." This "Mike" nodded in agreement. "For sure. I'll even keep an eye on you part of the way to make sure you don't tumble down and like, break your crown or something. 'Cause that wouldn't be cool."

The other uninjured one stood and gently helped "Raph" to his feet and began telling Allison what she needed to pick up. "And remember, don't tell anyone what really happened. This mess is sure to be found out about before long, anyway. We'd rather not be part of the picture, and that includes doctors. So calling for an ambulance is out of the question. If anyone asks why you look banged up, say you missed a step while getting off a bus."

Putting a hand to her temple as Leo helped the as-yet-unnamed person to walk their wounded comrade away, Allison nodded, still not sure how all of this happened. Beginning to step away, she wondered if she would be able to just make her way back home and forget about the entire mess. She knew she couldn't, though. For one, this Mike would be left on the corner on one of the coldest days of the season, which would be cruel. Also, he had said he'd watch her part of the way; who's to say he wouldn't follow her home and inquire as to why she backed away from a promise? For all she knew, he might grow hostile. The corner of St. Nicholas and Greene was only a block away from Myrtle Avenue, meaning it was relatively well-lit and leagues safer than their current location was. _Yeah,_ she thought groggily as she walked off, beginning to wonder why Mike didn't just come to the store with her. _Just buy the wise ass his meds and give 'em to his friend, then I can go home and consume an entire bottle of aspirin._

These thoughts running through her aching head, Allison continued towards Myrtle Avenue.


	2. Chapter 2

Cold water splashed over her face and tingled in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Looking up at the mirror over the small sink, Allison studied her appearance. The hit across the face was surely going to bruise, as it was slightly swelled right now. Her swollen cheek made her look vaguely like a chipmunk, and she quickly arranged her dark brown hair so it rested upon her cheek, at least giving herself an air of normalcy.

Shutting off the cold water, she unzipped her sweatshirt and gently slid the shoulder of it and her thin sweater off so that she could see her left shoulder, which she had landed on. It was already black and blue. With a small groan, Allison adjusted her clothing back to the way it was and stared down at her scraped palm. Wondering again how she had gotten into this mess, she shut the light and left the small bathroom.

The store clerk looked at her as she entered the shop. "You okay," he asked her gently. Allison nodded, trying to put a reassuring smile on her face but realizing that it hurt too much. "Yeah. Thank you for letting me use the bathroom." He nodded at her, then motioned to a small group of varying products he had assembled on the counter. "Found everything you asked for. Sure you won't be needing an ice pack, too?"

This was the reason Allison preferred living in a large city like New York. People don't ask any questions you don't want them to ask, but they still have their ways of making their concern clear. "I'm fine, thanks," she responded as she walked towards him and got out her credit card (having grabbed it in case she and Robert needed to take the baby to the hospital and medications needed to be bought). The clerk rang her up, probably thinking that Allison was a victim of some kind of domestic abuse or something. _As long as I don't need to claim I fell off a bus, I don't care what he thinks._

As she waited for the credit card to process, Allison looked out the glass storefront window, into the dark night interrupted by the neon signs of city life. Somewhere out there, some faceless man named after the painter of the Sistine Chapel was watching for her to come out so that he can take the supplies back to some unknown locale that his friend Da Vinci had called a "lair," so that they can heal their other pal Raphael. Signing her receipt, Allison repressed a snicker as she thought, _I wonder what the other guy's name was. Botticelli?_

Leaving the store, Allison tried her best not to limp. She hated it when people stared after her, which may be why she didn't like the thought of this Mike character watching her. She had tried standing out for years, and it only brought her a mess of problems. Conformity was a survival skill, she learned, and leaving New York for college helped her realize that. She much preferred to just live-

"Yo, chick."

Allison's eyes glanced down towards the sound. A man was sitting against a wall with a long battered trench coat and a hat with a ridiculously wide brim. He was looking down and so left his face unseen. On instinct, Allison's hand went into her pocket for change. It wasn't unusual to be solicited by the homeless for spare change anywhere in the city, and so she pushed aside the fact that had called her "chick" for just this once. Instead of asking for change, however, he asked, "What've you got in the bag?"

Continuing on in her stride, realizing that this was the sort of person that thrived on menial conversation with passerby, Allison curtly responded, "Medicine," as she continued towards St. Nicholas Street. An elderly woman passing in the opposite direction looked down and gasped something about a rat. _What's the big deal about rats?_ Allison wondered. _Just don't let them bite you. And in the cold weather, when you're wearing so many layers of clothing, that's even easi-_

"Medicine for who?" Allison turned swiftly as she heard the voice right besides her left ear. The man had gotten up and followed her, and she saw that his face was covered in bandages and his eyes held a sense of maniacal calculation. Suddenly uneasy, for she could tell that he definitely wasn't drunk but may just be outright insane, Allison's hand tried to reach for her knife, but she realized with horror that she had left it back where she had been attacked.

Straying to the side so that she wasn't as close to this man as she was before, Allison didn't answer. Her shoulder was sore and she didn't want to say anything that might get this guy angry… though she realized that her own reticence might annoy him just as much as her sarcasm.

Rather than ask the question again, the stranger queried, "Is it for ya new friends?" Allison blinked, trying to stare straight ahead and not give him any attention, in hopes that he would go away. _New friends? How does he know? Was he…? _Looking up at the street signs, Allison realized that she was one block away from St. Nicholas Street. After that, she would have to get off the main avenue and risk being alone with this man for a whole block until she met up with Mike. _And how do I even know what he looks like?_

"Whatsa matter? Don't talk much?" Allison continued to ignore him. It was about 9:30, and so most of the larger shops on the avenue were closed, save for the occasional small business or diner. _Diner! That's it! I can duck in there until this loser hightails it. _She quickened her pace as soon as she decided on her course of action. She noticed with disdain that the man did the same. "Ah, the strong, silent type. Never _could _stand those."

Seeing the 24-hour diner just another block up and across the way, Allison turned to cross the street, happy that there still appeared to be people milling about. She was stopped with a sudden assault of pain as the strange man grabbed hold of her injured upper arm and pulled at her. She let out something that was half-groan and half shriek, but a dirty hand was clamped tightly over her mouth, cutting her off. "Short-term memory, sweetheart. I do recall you needing to get to Greene Street, which is in _this_ direction." Blinking away tears of pain, Allison realized that she was being dragged down St. Nicholas Street. _Mike? This can't be Mike, can it? It doesn't sound like him. He hasn't said "dude" this entire time! Who _is_ this freak?_

She couldn't try to pull away, since the burning ache that surrounded her entire left side made her feel like she'd lose her left limb if she even tried to pull it out of this creep's grasp. As the steady commotion of the avenue began to get further and further away, Allison picked up on another sound that seemed to arise all around her. There was a strange chittering sound that did not bode well at all. Looking down as best as she could, she saw something dark and furry by her feet, following alongside her and looking up with red eyes. The long tail and the sudden memory of the elderly passerby told her all she needed to know. She was being followed by a horde of rats.

Whoever this guy was, she definitely knew that this would not end well if she didn't do something. She had never seen rats this big in her entire life, and usually scoffed at the rumors about rodents as big as cats lurking in the subway. When rumors are following after you as you're being held hostage, the odds are against you in a big way.

Her keys. They were the only thing Allison had left. Still holding onto the bag of surgical supplies and remembering that someone's life was depending on her, Allison shoved her hand into her pocket once more and dug out her keys. Wrapping her fist about them in such a way so that she wore them like clawed brass knuckles, Allison took a deep breath. Hoping her limp wouldn't slow her down, she simultaneously pivoted in such a way as to deliver a sharp jab to her opponent's stomach and punt one of the massive rats away from her. A loud, sharp scream escaped this bandaged freak's mouth as the keys bit into his flesh and, though his grip seemed to tighten momentarily from his pain, Allison bit back her own and managed to pull away as he was distracted. Keys still in hand, she ran as fast as she could towards Greene Street, realizing that the rats didn't take kindly to their friends being ill-treated as they sped after her.

Allison let out a desperate cry as she realized that she could see no one on Greene's corner. Where was Mike? How was she going to get out of this? Realizing that she was now in a more populated neighborhood, Allison decided that it wouldn't hurt to expend some of her energy and yelled out for help. Her voice echoed in the street, and she realized that it sounded just like the cries she heard from her own apartment window every night, always responding to them with some annoyance before turning up the volume of her television. Just another article in the morning paper…. Allison began to wonder if living in a big city really was all it was cracked up to be.

Suddenly, something dropped down from one of the houses and landed a few yards in front of her. Allison cried out again, trying to bring herself to a stop and only stumbling over her own feet. Her hands flailed out and grasped something rough and strong, keeping her from falling. An arm encircled her waist and she realized that she had just fallen into the figure that fell from the sky. "Didn't think I'd leave ya behind, did'ja lady?"

"Mike," she uttered weakly, urgently being led to a mailbox to lean over. "Rest there 'til you can run," Mike told her. She was too tired to complain and actually found herself sliding to kneel on the pavement. Taunting voices were heard behind her, and she guessed that Mike and the bandaged bum had some sort of score to settle. _It's like some old comic book, or something_, she thought absently, trying to rub the pain out of her leg. _I'm just waiting for one of them to break out the super powers._

She was surprised to see that she almost laughed at that, when she felt something sting her hand. Looking down with a gasp, she saw that one of the rats had sunk its claws into her hand and hardly had a chance to register this before it bit down, trying to tear the flesh right off her bones. With a scream of surprise, pain, and disgust, she waved her hand frantically, trying to get the rodent off. Desperate, she whacked her hand across the mailbox with all of the strength she could gather and it fell away from her. She saw that she had crushed its skull and that its blood was now mixing with hers from her opened wound, and Allison had to turn away for fear of throwing up at the sight.

She immediately wished that she had never turned around.

She had expected to see the crazy creep squaring off with a short, muscular, and probably young man named Mike, with the rats causing some kind of obstacle every so often. Instead, the rats were the main component of the fighting, the psycho was standing off to the side and reaching into his jacket for something, and… there was no other man. There was just… something green. Green with a large brown… _something_ on its back. Wearing an orange eye mask of sorts and swinging some crazy weapon around as he dealt with five or six rats at a time. _Is… that… Mike?_ Whoever it was, the face was showing some definite expressions and so it was clear that it wasn't just some off-the-wall crime-fighting costume. Dropping the bag and shakily making her way to her feet, ignorant of the warm blood flowing from her hand, Allison realized that this nunchaku-wielding (_Is that what those things were called in that video game I was playing?_) being wasn't human, and chances were that neither were the others he was with earlier.

The shock hit her hard, but she found that she didn't have the time to question this as much as she would have liked. The guy in the trench coat removed something cylindrical from what looked to be his pocket and it looked to Allison as though he did something which ignited it in some way. _Ignited?_ When the majority of the rats turned tails and stood behind him, leaving Mike with just one large rat to keep him distracted, Allison realized what was going on. "No!"

Without thinking, she ran towards Mike just as the object was rolled towards him, most likely to keep him from just knocking it away with his weapon. Dimly hearing Mike calling out something like, "Get back," Allison pulled her foot back and kicked the homemade bomb back towards its owner as hard as she could. She just managed to register the crazed opponent's expression as he waved his arm and managed to hit it towards a parked car before the thing went off.

Glass shattered and a piece of metal seemed to rise out of a bright flash and zoom towards her. Trying to cover her face, she felt a strangely-shaped hand grab her wrist and pull her into the same awkward, protective embraced she had been in when Mike dropped down in front of her. She was backed up against a wall as the car seemed to tear itself apart, the metal hitting Mike's back and bouncing off without doing any damage. Allison hadn't realized that such a small, amateurish-looking bomb could cause such a massive blast, but she was proved wrong when it even seemed to extend to a garbage can some feet away, lifting it and hurling it against the wall where Allison was helplessly clutching onto this unknown creature, pained and terrified. Her eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to block out the insanity. Allison suddenly heard a sharp cry of surprise and pain from Mike. She tried to open her eyes to see what had happened when he suddenly pressed against her, the weight of his body bearing down upon her injured shoulder and pinning her against the wall with force.

With a gasp, Allison found herself slipping into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

_Wh- Where am I?_

Allison's eyes opened slowly, gazing up at a dark ceiling. She had just had the strangest dream. It must have been from watching too many horror movies and playing too many video games. She tried to get up, but noticed that there was something wrong with her shoulder. Looking down, she ignored her massive headache and saw that she was in the white sleeveless shirt she had worn underneath her sweater, and that her left shoulder was covered in bandages. _What the-?_ She raised her right hand to get a better look at the bandages, and realized that her right wrist was also covered up as well. _What's going on? What's with all these bandages?_ Dwelling on the dressings on her wounds, she remembered the bandages that had covered the face of the man that had been in what she had thought to be a dream. _Then… if that really happened… Mike…?_

"Well, well, looks like you're finally conscious." Allison raised her head slightly and saw a darkened figure at the doorway. Recognizing the voice as the unnamed helper at the site of the (first) attack, Allison murmured, "Botticelli?" The figure made a confused sound, then let out a small laugh. "Close enough," he said, entering the room. "I'm Donatello. And according to the ID we found on you, you're Allison Grayson, right?" Allison nodded and slowly managed to sit up. The room was dark and she once again wondered how they all managed to have perfect night vision.

Suddenly, a bright, harsh light was turned on, causing Allison to shut her eyes in pain and cry out softly. "What's the secret, dude? I told ya she saw me already." In a somewhat annoyed voice, Donatello responded, "It doesn't matter if she saw you. I just didn't want to suddenly turn on the light and blind her." The voice that Allison already knew to be Mike's seemed to realize his mistake as he stepped closer and said, "Whoops. Sorry, bud."

Putting a hand over her eyes and willing the headache to go away, Allison muttered, "It's all right." Waiting for the green spots behind her eyelids to ease away, she remembered that, if Donatello and the others were like what she remembered Mike to be, she was liable to see a lot more green than her mind could handle. It was part of the reason she kept her eyes closed. _Gigantic lizards with masks and Japanese weapons just saved my life from thugs, giant rats, a crazy homeless guy, and an explosion. This has _got_ to be a dream within a dream._

In a soft voice, Donatello asked, "How are you feeling?" _Like I'm going out of my skull, Botticelli. How are _you Instead, she replied, "Okay, I guess. Sore. Very sore. My hand's numb." Picking up her wounded hand, Donatello responded, "Yeah, that should be normal. Don't worry, though, it's just the medication. Can't be too careful about those rat bites."

"Man, those things were _nasty_," Mike chimed in. "Like, I was makin' sure you were okay, and then I see the Rat King, and there's one rat. And I'm like, no biggie, y'know? Just cut 'em off at the pass and get ya out of there. 'N by the time I got to Greene, there were, like, _dozens_ of them. I couldn't just get ya out of there if there were gonna be a bunch of 'em comin' after us, so I had to step up to the plate." His somewhat excited tone changed when he added, "Stupid Rat King and his stupid bombs. Almost took off my shell. He coulda done some major damage."

"Yes," a new voice said from what seemed to be the doorway. "The damage could have been far worse. Michelangelo did well considering he was surprised and outnumbered." Though she was looking down, Allison opened her eyes, getting them adjusted to the bright light. _Great. A fifth frog thing?_ She was surprised to hear Mike's normally-lackadaisical voice lower in solemnity as he respectfully replied, "Thank you, sensei."

Recognizing the term to mean a teacher, Allison jerked her head up, hoping to see someone with a human shape. Instead, a sudden fear overcame her when she saw the figure that had entered the room. "Y… you're a…." The "sensei" nodded his head solemnly, apparently used to a horrified reaction by his appearance. "Yes, child," he replied calmly. "I am a rat, akin to those who were corrupted and have attacked you tonight." Not knowing what to say, Allison turned her head as though to look for advice, and found herself staring at a creature that looked like Mike, only with a slightly smaller build and a purple bandanna over his eyes, smiling reassuringly at her. He still had a hold of her hand, and Allison looked down to see a three-fingered… flipper-type _thing_ where a human hand should be.

Her shock coming back to her, she slowly pulled her hand away from the green creature, noticing that he looked somewhat disappointed in her reaction. Looking at him now in the direct light, she could see that the bulk upon his back appeared to be a shell, leading her to believe…. "…turtle?" Allison uttered quietly.

"Yup," replied Michelangelo. "Hope you're not too shell-shocked by it!" He began chuckling, and Donatello spared him a glance. "That was _painful_, Mikey." Allison looked from the two of them to the one they had called sensei, trying to wrap her brain around the events of the past few hours. How did she go from worrying about a baby's fever to sitting in a bed and talking to two giant turtles and their rat-teacher? If it weren't for the ache she felt all over, she would have believed that she really was dreaming.

"Allow me to make an introduction, Miss Grayson," said the rat that chose to keep his distance. "I am Splinter, and these are two of my four students, Michelangelo and Donatello. You are currently under some understandable stress, and so I have taken the liberty to prepare some tea for you to calm your nerves as I answer any questions you undoubtedly have. Do you believe you are well enough to journey out of the room, or would you prefer one of my students arrange it here?"

"Theoretically," Donatello brought up, "you're well enough to walk without aggravating your injuries, and the bandages on your shoulder are just there so you don't smear the ointment I put on it. But if you'd like, I can set it up in here." He turned to a nightstand that Allison hadn't noticed and began clearing it of what he had apparently used when treating her wounds. Remembering his vaguely hurt expression when she had pulled away from him, Allison reached out and put a hand on his arm. "No, that's okay," she said as he turned to look at her. "I think I'm okay to walk." A small smile surfacing on his unusual face, Donatello carefully took her arm. "Okay. I'll help you get up."

Carefully sliding out of the bed, Allison decided that whether or not this _was_ a dream, no harm could come in befriending these things. They've saved her life twice tonight (granted, the second time was most likely instigated because of her unwitting association with them), and so she figured that they must have an entertaining story, if nothing else.

Plus, some tea sounded really good to her at the moment.

* * *

"… and so, that is the story of how my sons and I have come to be where we are now."

Allison stared at Splinter in wide-eyed interest. Between the tale of Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki and extraterrestrials… this sounded far too much like a science fiction martial arts adventure. "…wow… I'm not quite sure how I'm expected to respond to all of that."

"Don't you believe us?" Donatello asked.

"Of course I do, given everything I've seen so far."

"Then you were 'expected' to react with a fainting spell, some screams, a physical attack, an attempt to run away, or a combination of all of the above," he told her wryly. Allison looked down, a small smile on her lips. While smiling, she found herself feeling for Donatello. He acknowledged that humans would never regard him or his brothers with anything but fear or ridicule and, though it obviously saddened him, he still made the effort to reach out to them. "I always knew human beings were idiots," she said under her breath.

"Humans are a proud race," Splinter told her. "They are among the stronger, more intelligent, and most importantly, most _capable_ creatures in the world. They abuse this capability and decide that they are a breed of chosen ones, mistreating or ignoring the other species which share their planet. They fear what is different because it poses a threat to them and think that, like _they_ would, anything that can pose a threat will indeed act upon it. They cannot even live amongst one another in peace, and seem to be leading themselves closer and closer into darkness. It is of little wonder that beings not from this world either constantly attempt to destroy the Earth or avoid it altogether."

"Well-spoken, sensei." Allison looked up and turned to the new voice. Leaning against a doorway stood another turtle wearing a blue bandanna, appearing to look at his reflection through a straight katana. His eyes turning to meet Allison's, he told her, "It's nice to see that you're one of the few who are willing to listen to reason." As he sheathed his katana and stepped into the room, Splinter said, "This would be my other son, Leonardo." The turtle stopped a few feet in front of Allison and surprised her with a small bow. "It's a pleasure. Thank you for what you've done for Raphael."

Confused for a moment, Allison suddenly remembered. "Is he all right? I had forgotten! Did he get the supplies? Is he conscious? Is-?" She was cut off by Michelangelo. "Whoa, whoa, calm your horses, little lady. Raph's doing fine, ain't that right, Donny?" Donatello nodded and reassuringly put a hand on Allison's shoulder. "Yeah, don't worry about him. I had to split the bandages between the two of you, but he's fine. He never even lost consciousness. Infection has been staved off, and all he needs now is rest and food to regain his energy and make up for the blood loss."

"Ha!" Mike laughed. "Like he's really gonna just sit around and recuperate! He'll be up and hecklin' in no time and complainin' that we've been babyin' the baby." From somewhere amongst the corridors from which Leonardo had emerged, a gruff voice yelled out, "I _heard_ that, ya big-mouthed bastard!" He said more, but Michelangelo and Donatello were laughing too hard for it to be heard, and even Allison giggled at it. She looked up at Leonardo and saw that he had a small smile cracked on his face, but his eyes seemed concerned as he looked at Splinter. Allison stopped laughing and wondered if there were complications that Leonardo just didn't want to make known. Splinter stood from the table and began walking out of the room. "Come with me, my son."

Suddenly worried, Allison heard Leonardo say, "But Master, I've come in to get Raphael something to eat." Without turning back to him, Splinter opened a sliding door and said, "There are others who can make those arrangements. Come. Sit with me." Not wanting to disobey his sensei, Leonardo followed him. They disappeared behind a traditional rice-paper door.

"What was _that_ all about?" Allison wondered aloud. Putting his feet up on the table, Michelangelo replied, "Hey, don't worry about it. Leo and Splinter are tight like that. Master Splinter could probably smell the worry comin' offa Leo and decided they needed to talk it out." Pouring himself more tea, Donatello added, "Yeah, that's most likely what it is. Leo's always been the responsible one, so seeing Raphael get shot during a routine fight and then having to wait until Mikey brings back the medicine probably just put him on edge."

Allison looked down. "Maybe I should... apologize to Leonardo, then?" Donatello asked what for and she responded, "Well, I _am_ kinda the reason Raphael got hurt in the first place. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt or to make him worry-"

"Hey, lighten up, bud," Michelangelo interrupted. "Raph got hurt because he was running his own mouth, and knowin' him, he'll probably say he did it on purpose, too. And Leo worries because he's Leo. I coulda come back with a scraped knee, and Leo still woulda thought it was his fault and sulk over it."

"They're two extremes, Leo and Raph," Donatello explained. "Leo's always so proud of how far we've all come from just being on the bottom of a glass bowl in a pet shop. Raph, on the other hand, just… well, I guess the thought of being an outcast for the rest of his life pretty much weighs on his mind more than he'd like to admit. They're on completely opposite sides of the spectrum, and yet…. Leo gives Raph someone to look after him, and Raph gives Leo someone to look after. Because of their personalities, they need each other, in a way."

There was a moment of silence in which the only sound was that of Donatello thoughtfully sipping his tea. Then Michelangelo piped up and said, "Dude, that was deep." Donatello merely shrugged and responded, "Eh. I'm pretty sure I heard that on some after-school special or something." Allison let out a small giggle, and Mike laughed, "Haw! Sounds more like one of 'em educational Saturday morning cartoons."

Donatello let out a small laugh and began gathering up his, Allison's, and Splinter's cups of tea. "Yeah, I guess. Point being, Allison, we're just like you people who live up on the surface. We're different, and we've got our faults, but we're still a family. I guess I just don't understand why it seems that the human race as a whole can't think the same way. Isn't it easier to just be at peace?"

"For sure, dude," Michelangelo said, going to a nearby water cooler and pouring himself some water. "I mean, if it were up to me, I'd say that we should all totally just sit around, eat pizza, and watch movies instead of goin' off and fightin' wars and blowin' stuff up." After downing his water in a single drought, he added, "But then, I'm just a turtle, after all. Simple pleasures."

Allison looked thoughtfully down at her bandaged hand. "Works for me," she said quietly. "All I ever do is eat pizza and play _Soul Caliber_ anyway." She looked up at Mike as she heard his cup drop from his hand. "_Soul Caliber_? _You_ play _Soul Caliber_?" Surprised, Allison responded, "Yeah. It's a great game. Have you heard of it?"

"Heard of it?" Donatello commented from the counter where he was wiping the cups. "That boy's been obsessed with it ever since it came out." Giving them his back so he could focus on his cleaning, he said, "I foresee a deep and moving conversation over who's cooler: Maxi or Kilik."

"No way, dude, we've been over this! Maxi's not only got the nunchucks, but he's a pirate. He's like, a pirate _and_ a ninja combined! You're just all about Kilik because he's got a bo!" Donatello interjected Mike by adding, "_And _a cool name." Ignoring Donatello, Mike turned back to Allison. "Who are you into in the game?" Allison shrugged, not expecting to have this conversation. "I… I dunno. I normally play as Taki, I guess."

"The demon hunter?"

"Yeah."

Michelangelo seemed to think about this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I can see that." From his little corner, Donatello asked, "Isn't that the girl with the twin ninjato?" After affirming that it was, Mike looked slyly at Allison and informed her, "The ninjato's Leo's weapon, y'know. Maybe you could try and practice with him and get him to loosen up a bit."

"Michelangelo," Donatello said warningly.

Allison couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh when she realized what Michelangelo had been getting at. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think a certain guy in my life would appreciate it." Feigning disappointment, Mike grumbled, "Aw, isn't that always the way it is? Every girl we get down here is either taken or totally freaked by us."

"Or both," he and Donatello said together.

Allison laughed again. Strange to think that she was talking to a couple of beings that she hadn't even thought existed before a few hours ago, and she already got along better with them than with most humans. "He's not my boyfriend," she said as she thought back on him. "He just likes to think he is." Michelangelo cringed. "Ugh, one'a those, huh? Sounds just like this guy that was on this one episode of-"

"Hey Allison," Donatello interrupted. "How about _you_ bring the food in for Raph?" Allison looked up, realizing that Don had just finished putting some food on a tray. "Me? W…why me?" Donatello shrugged. "Well, you've talked to the rest of us long enough… maybe not Leo quite as much or anything… so maybe talking to Raph for a bit will give you an idea of just how… well-rounded we are as a team."

"Dude," Michelangelo said in a voice that Allison didn't know how seriously to take, "he'd probably chew her up and spit her out." Donatello smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah… but something tells me _she_ might just be able to take it." If Michelangelo had any eyebrows, one would've been raised in a challenge. "You just wanna play _Soul Caliber_, dont'cha?" Donatello smirked. "The thought _did_ cross my mind."

"Bro, you're _so_ on!" Getting up and walking towards the room that contained the television, Michelangelo added, "And after I whip your shell, I'ma take on Taki once she's done playin' nurse." The energetic turtle ran out of the room to get the game ready, leaving Donatello and Allison to look on after him with amusement. Donatello then walked towards her, helping her up. "You don't have to give him the food if you don't want to," he told her. "If you're too sore and just want to get some more sleep-"

"Oh, no, no," Allison quickly interjected. "I wouldn't mind it at all. And anyway, it would give me a chance to thank him for that whole… y'know… getting shot to save my life thing." Donatello smiled at her. "All right. But if he gives you too much lip, don't be afraid to give him any back." He turned and picked the tray he had set up from the counter and handed it to her. "Just put this on his lap," he told. "Unless we accidentally gave him stupid pills, he should know what to do."

Allison looked down at rectangular box, bowl, and milkon the tray. "Honey Nut Cheerios?" She looked incredulously at Donatello, and he merely shrugged. "What can I say," he told her, "it's his favorite." Allison shook her head and took the tray, being led out into the corridor by Donatello. "I never would've guessed it, that's for sure." After instructing her on where Raphael was, he turned towards where Michelangelo had sprinted off to.

"When you're done, just follow the sounds of Mikey losing and join in on the fun."


	4. Chapter 4

Allison approached the door that was slightly ajar with caution.

Though she could find his sardonic remarks humorous, Allison realized that she was somewhat afraid of speaking to Raphael. The snide comments he had made that led to his current condition were annoying in hindsight, but Allison never _had_ been able to handle herself in a conversation that required quick wit. Anything more than applying a "sarcastic tone" eluded her, and she felt that she was walking into a battle unarmed. _Maybe he just acts that way for show_, she hoped, getting close enough to look into the room and seeing yet another green mass lying on a bed. _Maybe he's really a nice guy and-_

"What the hell are _you_ doing in here?"

Though she hadn't even stepped into the room, the turtle in the red bandanna glared at her with a vaguely dissatisfied expression. Taking a deep breath and forcing a wry smile onto her face, Allison said, "Hello there, starshine. How's life?" Forcing himself into a sitting position as the girl stepped into the room, Raphael winced slightly as he muttered, "A pain in the ass. As per usual."

Waiting for him to get into a comfortable position, Allison glanced over his wound. A bandage was wrapped tightly around his left shoulder, not all too dissimilarly from the way her own shoulder was wrapped. The only difference was that he seemed to have many more layers of bandages, which made sense considering he had an actual wound whereas she was only bruised. From what she could tell, the shot had gotten him only a few inches above from where his heart was (or where it _should_ have been, if he and his brothers had an internal anatomy similar to that of humans), which would explain the concern the others had felt. He seemed well enough to not let this tough-guy act die away, and this was made clear as he looked at her begrudgingly after finally sitting himself upright. "Why'd they send _you_ in? Leo already tired of playing Florence Nightingale?"

Cautiously placing the tray over his lap and allowing him to steady it to his liking, Allison replied, "Leonardo is having a talk with Master Splinter at the moment." Raphael rolled his eyes as he opened up his box of cereal. "Figures. That chump spends too much time ruminatin' on stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid!" Allison blurted out defensively. "You were hurt and your brother was worried about you! It's only natural!" Allison instantly regretted her words and how she said them, but knew that she couldn't back out now when Raphael flashed her another look. "Natural? Natural! You're one to talk about 'natural,' okay, sister?" Seeming to think better than continuing that line of thought, he poured some cereal into the bowl and muttered, "Jeez, a scratch on the shoulder and suddenly the whole world's falling to pieces."

Allison crossed her arms over her chest and looked down. "I'm sorry," she told him rather unapologetically. "But I was worried about your injury, too. It was what made me try to pull away from that crazy bum with the rats. I didn't want Mike to get the supplies back here and discover that it was too late." A moment of silence passed and she ventured a gaze towards him. He was silently pouring milk into his bowl, absently stirring the cereal with a spoon. "Yeah, well," Raphael finally said, "it wasn't too late. So both you and Leo need to chill out over the 'could haves' and 'would haves,' capisce?" Allison said nothing as he capped the milk bottle and settled it on the nearby nightstand cluttered with the medical supplies she had bought. "Capisce?"

"Right," Allison answered, looking away. "Whatever." Spotting a chair nearby, Allison was contemplating whether she should sit down and attempt a civil conversation or if she should walk right out and sit with Donatello and Michelangelo again, when Raphael suddenly snapped at her. "Hey, listen kid, I don't get why you're acting like such a brat. I didn't _have_ to get shot on account of you, you know. I could've just let the bozo make off with you and do what he and his buddies were gonna do with that other chick they had in the alley. I didn't even hear any thanks from you yet."

"I _was_ going to thank you," Allison almost yelled, glaring darkly at him, "but you started going off at the mouth before I could even start." Incredulously, Raphael retorted, "Me! _You're_ the one who comes in here and starts sticking up for Leo's worry, like you know a damned thing about any of us!"

"I came in here to give you food!"

"So you gave me food; what are you still doing here?"

"Nothing, so maybe I should just _leave_!"

"Then leave!"

"I will!"

Surprised at how quickly she had lost her temper, Allison could do little more than clench her fists at her sides (despite the stinging that came from her right hand) and glare at the hotheaded turtle, breathing hard. They simply stared at each other for a moment, and Allison gradually found the humorous triviality in the entire situation. Her furrowed eyebrows and grim lips were about to give way to a more genial expression when Raphael sternly ordered, "This millennium, lady." The comment only made her finally lose it and she looked down with a grin. _This guy's a winner_, she thought as Raphael seemed to misinterpret her smile and began yelling at her some more.

Feeling her hand tingle, she brought it up to her face and saw that her bandages were turning pink. _Damn… I must've opened the wound when I balled my fists._ Seeing the stained dressings, Raphael piped down. "Jeez," he murmured, "is that from those humongous rats Mikey was talking about?" Beginning to unwrap the bandage, Allison didn't even glance at him as she said, "Maybe you should chill out and not worry so much, capisce?" From the corner of her eye, she could see Raphael send her another glare and couldn't help but crack a smile as she turned away and began to leave. "Jerk," she snickered somewhat jokingly.

"Yo, where you going?" Allison looked at Raphael over her shoulder as she replied, "I'm going to go get Donatello so he can bandage me up again." She was mildly surprised when he responded, "What, you can't put on a bandage by yourself?" He motioned to the nightstand besides him. "Should be another roll on there somewhere, along with something to clean it up with." He began eating his cereal after saying these words, as though he didn't want Allison to place too much stock in the offer… if such a word could be used for that.

Not moving from her spot by the doorway, Allison inquired, "Do you _usually_ eat your little bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios while looking at people play with open wounds?" Seeming to restrain his bitterness, Raphael responded, "Hey, no one said I was gonna be watching ya, okay? I'm just sayin' there's stuff in the room to clean that up, so ya don't need to bug Donny for something as stupid as a new bandage." With a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, he added, "And Honey Nut Cheerios makes the world go round. Screw you if you think otherwise."

Allison allowed herself to laugh as she slowly walked back towards Raphael's bed. "And here I always thought that the Earth's rotation had something to do with _gravity_. I have the strangest ideas sometimes." As she got to the nightstand and looked for the bandages, she heard Raphael mutter with a full mouth, "Oh, you're a riot, you know that?" Accepting the comment for the fact that it was simply his way of always needing the last word, Allison took the small roll of bandages, some tissue, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and sat in the nearby chair.

Seeing the rat bite for the first time, Allison cringed. It didn't necessarily look bad or infected (other than being very red and very swollen), but the huge gashes reminded her of the enormity of the rats. If her instincts hadn't driven her to smash the rat against the mailbox, she would most likely have been missing an inch of flesh right below her knuckles. Wiping the excess blood away with the clean part of the bandage, she was thankful to see that there was no pus, just blood. Granted, she didn't know anything about medicine, but the sight of pus sickened her, and so she was glad to see just the ruby liquid from her wound. _I should probably get this looked at by a professional_, she thought as she tossed the used bandage into a nearby waste basket and began opening the alcohol bottle. _These look even deeper than the time I almost cut my thumb off with the table saw… I'll probably be needing stitches or something._

Soaking a handful of tissue with alcohol, she absently set the damp tissue on her wound… and nearly dropped the bottle as she gasped loudly. Yanking the alcohol away from the cuts, Allison bit back a shout on account of not wanting to deal with anymore of Raphael's distemper until she got this done. However, it looked like the gasp was enough to attract his attention. "Hurts?"

Allison swallowed the bitingly sarcastic words back, knowing that she would be liable to declare verbal war on him because of the blinding sting. She slowly nodded, holding the tissue a few inches above her wound as though preparing to suddenly drop it once the pain subsided. Looking at her swollen hand, Allison mentally challenged herself to simply accept the hurt when she suddenly heard, "C'mere."

Looking up, she saw that Raphael had extended one hand towards her, using the other to set the now-empty bowl and tray to the side. "What?" Allison queried, suddenly worried. Annoyed, Raphael repeated, "C'mere." Putting the bottle of alcohol down on the floor, Allison stood up and slowly walked over to him. With his extended hand, he brusquely grabbed the arm of the injured hand, causing Allison to flinch. _Great_, she thought while squeezing her eyes shut as he took the alcohol-soaked tissues in his other hand. _He's just gonna hold me down and tell me to grin and bear it. Oh man, this is worse than getting a shot at the doctor's office._

"The problem with you is," Raphael told her lowly, "you're just going for it head on, causing yourself more pain than it's worth. You might get away with that if ya scrape your elbow or something, but something this big needs to be tackled a bit more carefully." Flabbergasted, Allison opened her eyes and looked down, seeing that he was gently edging the alcohol closer and closer to the larger gashes, getting her used to the quiet stinging before moving on to the more serious wounds.

As the wounds got larger, Allison's discomfort grew. Her fingers twitched to close into a fist once again, but the hand holding her arm lowered and held her hand open. "Oh no, you don't," Raphael said warningly. "That'll only make the wound open even more and cause you to bleed longer. I'm surprised Donny didn't warn ya about that." Adjusting his much larger hand within her palm, he added, "There. If it hurts, squeeze into my hand." Trying not to speak in a whimper, she informed him, "I have a really tight grip." With a smirk, Raphael told her, "Give it your best shot."

With that, he finally covered the entire wound with the alcohol, wiping at it more gently than Allison would have expected. This didn't stop her gut reaction to clench her fist, however, and her fingers quickly pressed into Raphael's strange hand and wrist. She noted a small grimace from Raphael as he mumbled, "That _is_ a tight grip." Relaxing somewhat as he seemed to finish up, Allison sighed, "Yeah, nurses used to hate it when I held onto their hands during shots and procedures."

The blood mostly wiped away, Raphael motioned for her to get the bandages. As she retrieved them from the chair, he asked, "You had a lot of… 'procedures?'" Picking up the roll of bandages, she kept her back to him as she responded, "Kinda. I… was a sick kid. And accident prone. Always getting banged up some way or the other." She handed him the bandages, noticing another small smirk on his face. "Heh. Sounds like tonight's encounters were just _waitin'_ to happen to ya, huh?"

"I guess," she told him as he began unwrapping the bandages. "It just… still seems so surreal." He nodded as he began taking care of her hand. "Yeah, that's what they all say at first. You'll get used to it quick."

"All?" Allison asked, a bit surprised. "You mean other people know about you?" With a sharp laugh, Raphael responded, "Of course. You didn't think we'd manage to live here all this time and not get at least a few other visitors, huh? I mean, if we hadn't already been trained in dealing with humans, Mikey probably woulda done the smart thing and look for an address on ya and leave ya at your place." He paused for a moment, then added, "I guess we should know by now we can't trust Mikey to do the smart thing."

Pushing her hair out of her face, Allison queried, "But… if you've been here all this time, how come you haven't… well… how come the newspapers and scientists haven't gotten wind of you? I mean, all that stuff that happened concerning that Oroku Saki guy and the Foot Clan… shouldn't it have gotten you guys at least some sort of mention in the papers, good or bad?" With a hard bitterness in his voice, Raphael explained, "As much as Leo and Donny and the rest want us to be the saviors of human society, we know we gotta keep things on the down low, or else we might as well pack up and head for a swamp in Florida."

A moment passed, and Allison whispered, "You guys deserve better than what you have, after-" She winced as he tightly tied the bandage, and a look into Raphael's eyes told her that the wince was fully intentional. "Better? Like what? Who's to say we ain't happy here, huh? We've got food, shelter, and each other. We don't need to go and get jobs and pay rent for some shithole that's even more fallen apart than _this_ place is. We don't need to worry about wearing just the right clothes to impress just the right people to make just the right 'connections' in the world. We're happy, and if you think we need your pity, then you're out of your damn mind, got that?"

Surprised at the outburst just when it seemed she had been reaching him on some level, Allison pulled her hand away and stepped back from him. He didn't seem at all ashamed at what he had just said, and she couldn't help but wonder what caused his disposition. It was then that Donatello's words came back into her mind: _"…I guess the thought of being an outcast for the rest of his life pretty much weighs on his mind more than he'd like to admit."_ Her eyes softened at the thought, and she was almost horrified to discover that she was only giving him more pity. _Pity? No. Empathy._ "Just because I'm human doesn't mean I don't know how you feel," she uttered thinly.

"Oh, what," Raphael scoffed. "You gonna give me some sob story about how you were a nerd in school? How you were the kid who rocked out to Band A while everyone else liked Band B? How you couldn't fit in, no matter how much you tried? Jeez, kid, if you're tryin' to be my friend by feeding me that-"

"Why don't you just shut the hell up and listen for once, dammit?"

Raphael gaped at her, surprised by Allison's interruption. Instead of conceding to her request, he looked away from her, seeming to quietly seethe. Seeing that this wasn't going to be easy on either of them, Allison knelt down by the bed and looked down at her newly-bandaged hand, sitting back on her heels. _This is stupid. He's not going to care at all._

"The reason I was so accident prone as a kid is because I was overweight. Like,… really, _really_ overweight. And yet I still tried to run around like all of the other kids, and when a fat kid falls, it _hurts_. Not just physically, but emotionally. When a bunch of eight-year-olds see a fat girl falling on her face, the natural reaction is to point and laugh. Hell, when a bunch of eight-year-olds see a fat girl doing just about _any_thing, they point and laugh.

"After a while, I just stopped trying to be like everyone else and was happy with just keeping to myself, being who I am. In high school, I realized that I really _was_ that kid who listened to this while everyone else listened to that. I hated the fascination with appearances and cliques, and didn't care what the other girls with the perfect bodies said about me. When we die, we'll just all resort back to the dust from which we came, and so it was stupid for me to worry about lip gloss.

"The same thing happened in college. Fuck the world, I'm me. I went to a really small school in a suburban area, where everyone came from the same cookie cutter. I only went there because they gave me the most scholarships, and I didn't let the awkwardness bother me. No one talked to me, except for those weird outreach groups that wanted the whole world on their side. And I didn't care. I was fine with that. Until….

"… near the end of my sophomore year, I discovered my mother had cancer. I had about four weeks left for the semester, so I figured I'd just wait until after finals to go back home." Allison paused for a long time, her vision wavering with tears. "By the time I got home, she was already in the ground.

"No one told me. I'm an only child, and my parents have been divorced since forever, so I don't really know my dad. I was always the strange one in the family, usually with a smartass comment to make about my viewpoints on life. No one wanted to hear me. No one wanted to talk to me. And that was fine. Until the day I rushed into my mother's house and saw my aunt putting things in boxes." Allison felt her throat go dry. She paused to swallow, determined not to cry in front of a hardassed turtle. After a moment, she went on.

"I missed my mother's funeral just because I was 'different.' I didn't have anyone to go to, anyone to cry with… and for the first time in my life, I realized how alone I was. If I died, no one would care. My body would be another Jane Doe. And all because I refused to allow myself to be what people wanted me to be." She managed a breathy laugh. "It seems so trivial. The clothes I wore, the music I listened to, the books I read… none of that had anything to do with _me_. None of it dealt with my personality at all, except superficially. It just made me _different_, and for that, people judged me. And for that, I felt it was within my right to judge people. I took my differences and kept them for myself, wallowing in them. They're _mine_, and no one else's.And because of that, my mother died without ever saying goodbye to her only daughter.

"I dropped out of school. I just couldn't do it anymore. And I decided that I needed to… change. I needed to bend. So I lost weight. Cut my hair. Stopped reading fantasy novels. Started looking at fashion magazines. Watched more soap operas, played less video games. And I became… normal. And people… spoke to me. And it was nice. Very nice. But I guess on the inside, I always knew it was just a cop out. It was fake."

She looked up, and Raphael was still looking away. She wondered if he heard anything she had said, but decided that it didn't matter. She hadn't said any of this out loud to anyone before, and getting it out helped her more than she could have thought. "And now I look at you, Raphael. At your brothers. And you were made the way you are and can't do anything about it. You can't just wear a different style of clothing or anything. And I wonder, do you feel trapped?"

Raphael shifted uncomfortably, and Allison felt slightly relieved, knowing that he was listening. Looking back at her hand, she continued, "But you didn't do what I did. You didn't use your uniqueness as a means to cut yourself completely away from the people who would mistreat you because of it. You didn't stop caring. You honed the skills given to you by your mutations, and you're using them to protect those who would use those very mutations against you. For people who haven't found the balance between losing themselves in society and ostracizing themselves from what could otherwise be a functional life. And, like you, I'm not sure if I understand logically _why_ you do what you do, considering the way this world operates. But I do understand that, somehow… it makes you a far better person than I've ever been at any stage in my life."

The quiet overcame the room as Allison slowly lost herself in her memories. Though her current friends and co-workers knew that Allison's mother was dead and she wasn't very close to the rest her family, she had never articulated the reasons for this before. Perhaps on some level, she just didn't want to bring herself to face it. She didn't want to acknowledge how she had suffocated her own personality around whatever pop culture dictated she should be interested in. She didn't want to think that, though she did smile more often now that she had Robert and her other friends to talk to… she was somehow _happier_ before, when she didn't try to please anyone but herself. Was she selfish, then, or was this just a trait of humanity?

"Eavesdropper," Raphael stated suddenly.

Allison looked up at him and saw that he was looking towards the door. Following his gaze, she saw no one there, but Leonardo slowly stepped into her line of vision. "Just checking in," the more solemn turtle said quietly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Allison swiftly got to her feet, gingerly resting her injured hand at her side. "N… no," she began, but was quickly interrupted by Raphael's brash sarcasm. "Talk about a mood-killer, Leo. A little more and I would've been able to get her social security number and credit card info."

Allison looked back down at the wounded turtle, wondering whether or not what she said had had any bearing on him whatsoever. He seemed grateful for the interruption, and so Allison left it at that. "I guess I'll just go hang out with Mike and Donatello a bit more," she said, heading towards the door.

As she crossed paths with Leonardo, she stopped when she heard his voice. "Actually, Allison, Master Splinter thinks it's best if you rest a bit more. It's after midnight, and it would probably be a good idea for you to get some sleep as you heal." Allison blinked at him. "Sleep? Does he honestly expect me to be able to sleep after everything that's happened today?"

"Why don't you take her for some sparring, Leo? Maybe _that'd_ tire her out." Leonardo allowed a bemused smile to emerge as he looked at his brother. "Not tonight, Raph," he said levelly as he approached the nightstand. "And if you don't get some sleep as well, _you_ won't be sparring for a long time." Gathering up the tray and everything Allison had brought in, Leo commented, "Your mouth must want some rest after all the running you made it do tonight."

"Oh har, har," Raphael griped as Leo made his way back towards the door. "You must be taking wit lessons from Mikey." Ignoring his brother, Leonardo chucked his head towards the door, signaling for Allison to follow. "C'mon," he told her. "I'm not going to force you off to bed, but we should at least leave Raphael on his own for a bit." Nodding, Allison followed after him. As she moved to close the door behind them, she glanced back at the loud reptile and said, "G'night, Raphael."

Just before the door closed shut behind her, she heard his sour voice respond, "Yeah, whatever."


	5. Chapter 5

"Have you eaten at all?"

Allison looked up at Leo as she followed him back to the kitchen area. "Eaten?" She had to think. When was the last time she ate something that day? Leonardo looked back at her with a vaguely amused expression. "Yes, eaten. As in, ingested something other than tea since your… accidents." Allison shook her head, gingerly twitching the fingers of her injured hand and quietly marveling over how well of a job Raphael had done at bandaging it. "No," she finally responded. "I can't remember when I last ate. Maybe sometime in the afternoon?"

She could hear the familiar sounds of _Soul Caliber_'s music flowing from somewhere that she couldn't pinpoint, along with Michelangelo's loud exclamations of either jubilation or dismay. Part of her wanted to go off and join him and Donatello in their game, but she also wanted to stay and get to know the final turtle. He didn't seem as rough as Raphael or as outgoing as Michelangelo or as knowledgeable as Donatello, but that only led Allison to wonder what sort of traits _did_ make him stand out. "How do you feel about leftover lo mein and dumplings?"

Allison blinked. They had just stepped into the kitchen and Leonardo placed Raphael's empty food tray on the counter. "Lo mein?" Allison asked, surprised. "Dumplings? That… sounds really good, actually." Walking towards the refrigerator, Leonardo inquired, "Why so surprised?" Hesitatingly, she answered, "Well, I don't know. I guess… I just didn't know what I expected mutant turtles to eat." She let out a small laugh, hoping he wouldn't somehow take offense at that. She already knew that Raphael got very huffy over the slightest assumptions she made, so she didn't want Leonardo to suddenly bear down on her as well.

When he turned from the refrigerator with a Chinese takeout box in his hand and a warm smile on his face, Allison relaxed. "Well, given the fact that we _are_ partially human or, to use Donatello's word, anthropomorphic, we've taken on some of your poorer eating habits." Walking over to a microwave and grabbing a plate, he remarked, "The vegetables in Chinese food are usually the closest most of us get to being healthy, despite the warnings Sensei constantly gives Mikey and Raphael." Remembering Michelangelo's fascination with pizza and Raphael's almost-childish defense of his breakfast cereal, Allison commented, "Yeah, I don't doubt it."

They remained silent, allowing the sound of numbers being punched into the microwave's touchpad to take over for a bit. Allison could have sworn she heard Michelangelo's sharp cry of resentment and Donatello's softer voice returning with some sort of witty comeback. Thinking about it for a moment, she asked, "Are you the oldest?"

Leaning against the counter, Leonardo replied, "I'm not sure. I don't really think there _is_ an eldest. I've just… always been the person in the group who showed he could handle responsibility, and so it has always been given to me." Allison tried to meet his eyes, but saw that he was looking towards the floor, a ghost of a smile on his face. She wondered if he didn't actually… _begrudge_ this responsibility, and if this sentiment was punctuated by the sounds of his seemingly-carefree brothers playing video games. She wondered how she should phrase that query when he spoke.

"I'd like to thank you, yet again, for what you did for Raphael. Most people wouldn't have offered to pick the stuff up for us, meaning that we would have had to find one of our contacts and hoped they weren't otherwise occupied. He and Donatello kept telling me it was fine… but I worry."

Allison nodded, though she realized he wasn't looking at her. "I understand. I was worried too, and I didn't even know him. When family's in trouble… you just feel… helpless." Leonardo looked up at her, and Allison found herself looking away. She wasn't sure if she was thinking about her mother or about Robert's baby, who was the closest to family she currently had. "Yes," he responded quietly. "Helplessness leads to desperation, and desperation… leads to terrifying things."

_Real chipper, this one,_ Allison thought sardonically. She thought it interesting, however, that he didn't speak pessimistically, nor regretfully. Whatever it was that made this turtle speak such somber words seemed to have been dealt with already. Or perhaps he was only speaking from hypothetical situations that he had thought up. After all, as far as anyone could tell, he and Splinter and the other turtles were the only beings like them in the world. If something happened to any of them… Allison couldn't even begin to imagine how radically different life would be for them. If she was one of only four humans left in the world, she knew for certain that she would take much of the responsibility for all of them upon herself. She was alone once and, though it satisfied her well enough, she also needed some sort of physical contact. She needed to find the balance between who she was in college and who she became after her mother passed away. She needed… to be very much like she was now, standing there and watching the mutant turtle take a plate of steaming noodles and two dumplings from the microwave.

"Here you go," Leonardo said as he brought the plate to the table, picking up a fork along the way. "It's not very much, but it's light enough to not make you ill." The smell of the food making her realize how hungry she had been, Allison walked to the table and sat herself down as he set the food and utensils down. "Thank you," she told him. "It looks great." Picking up her fork, she glanced back at him as he turned to the counter. She felt a bit awkward eating without someone joining her, but as she heard him begin to wash out Raphael's used dishes, she decided to let him be and began eating.

They didn't speak for a long while, yet it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. They acknowledged one another's presence, but were simply getting preliminary activities out of the way, such as chores and eating. Allison's thoughts returned to Robert, and she hoped that he hadn't gotten worried that she didn't call him to check up on the baby, as was her custom. _I'll probably have a dozen missed calls on my phone when I get back_, she thought as she twirled the noodles and vegetables around her fork. _It's a good thing I'm not working on a project at work right now, or else Rhys would be flipping out. _Trying to roll her shoulders back, she flinched. _Yeah… definitely not gonna bother going to work for a couple of days. _

Gulping down more of the lo mein, she found herself becoming more and more amazed by how easily she was accepting most of this. Her car had broken down, and was probably currently being stripped for parts by some local gang. She was chased down a dark street by a group of would-be rapists, was rescued, was captured, fought her way out, and then offered to help one of her rescuers. Upon returning with what he needed, she got harassed by a deranged homeless man referred to as the Rat King, was attacked by a horde of rats, and then was rescued once again by one of her aforementioned saviors… who turned out to be a nunchuck-wielding, pizza-eating, wisecracking giant turtle. After falling unconscious from an explosion, she woke up in a bed in the depths of the sewer, discovered three more turtles, and a benevolent talking rat referred to as "sensei." _Ninjas and mutants and aliens, oh my._ And here she was eating a dumpling provided to her by a turtle with two swords sheathed on his back while he washed the dishes. _Yeah, this has gone beyond weird and my system just hasn't come up with a way to express my shock yet._

"How's the food?" Allison looked up and saw that Leonardo was apparently done with what he had been doing and was approaching to join her. "Fantastic," she replied as he sat down at the table. He had a glass of water in his hand and set it by her plate. She thanked him with a small smile and he settled back to look at her. "So," he began, "tell me a bit about yourself." Small talk, surely, was all he had in mind, but Allison remembered hearing Raphael claiming him to have eavesdropped on their conversation. "What do you want to know," she asked, "that you haven't already heard?"

Understanding what she meant, Leonardo looked down. "I didn't hear… much. Honestly, I hadn't meant to intrude-" Allison broke in with, "Oh, I know. I didn't mean it as an accusation. It's just…." Looking down at her food, Allison quietly finished, "From here on out, I suppose I'm something of an open book."

"You seem disappointed by that."

"Well, yeah. It proves that I've been hiding something… from my friends, my society… from myself."

"And how does that make you different from anyone else?"

Allison looked up at Leonardo. "Well… I know everyone hides something. But… I guess I just thought…." As she trailed off, Leonardo nodded slightly. "You thought you _were_ different. And you are." With a slight smile, he added, "And so is everyone else." Allison offered a small laugh. Seeming to be encouraged by this, Leonardo continued. "From what I did catch, you had a very difficult time in school. You grew numb to the people around you, until the pain of isolation became too much and you simply bled out. You then hit the other extreme and allowed for everything to touch you, hoping the superficiality would provide a different sort of numbness and soothe you. I don't know if this latter tactic has worked for you, but I can tell you that… it didn't work for me."

Allison focused on the turtle's eyes as they seemed to remember something from his past. She wasn't going to push anything that included bad memories, but she found that she didn't need to as he went on. "There was a point where I became so engrossed with being perfect, with being the best, with using anger as a strength, that I lost what it meant to be a true warrior. Why should I hold onto the belief in honor when it was clear that none of my opponents knew what this word meant, and so would turn it against me? And so I allowed myself to sink into the mentality of the blind, the spiteful… and it almost ended disastrously. So I went away for a while, on a pilgrimage, and meditated on the past, the present, and how both of these things will affect the future.

"I _am_ a responsible individual. I can also be a fierce fighter when my family is endangered. At that stage of my life, I thought that it was my responsibility to utterly destroy anything that threatened my family… no matter what that meant. Soon enough, I learned that he who attacks in anger is destined for failure. It was a difficult lesson to learn, but since then, I've kept myself in check in regards to hitting either extreme. Meditation helps the most… I would recommend it if you feel yourself beginning to slip away after the revelations you've made about your character."

"The Middle Way."

Leonardo's eyes focused back on Allison at the sound of her voice. "Yes," he said warmly. "The Middle Way, or the Eightfold Path of Buddhism. Despite its name, it's a very powerful concept that more people should strive for today." Done with her food, Allison leaned back in her seat. "So are you striving for Enlightenment, Leonardo?" He remained quiet for a long time before answering. "Aren't we all?"

"I don't think so," she replied quietly. "If we 'strive' for it, then we're struggling for it, trying with all of our strength to attain it. I would think that Enlightenment is something more passive that will show itself when there's peace within." The surprised turtle looked at her for a moment before inquiring, "Are you a Buddhist?"

Allison smiled and shook her head. "No. I took a course on Asian religions in college. To think, I paid a professor to lecture me on these things just so I can regurgitate them back at someone else." She laughed, and Leonardo's pleasant expression didn't fade away. "The sign of a true teacher," he told her, "is a student going on to teach. Maybe you learned more than just a regurgitation."

"Maybe," she responded, running a hand through her hair and wincing as she pulled some tangles loose. "For the most part, it's just been something that I keep in the back of my mind along with the tons of other random information I know. It helps with work every so often, so I figure it's better not to lose any of it." Leonardo asked what sort of work she did, and she replied, "I'm a script supervisor, working mostly freelance but I have a good number of contacts over at Miramax." Not seeming to understand, he said, "I see… so… _what_ do you do?"

"Lots of script analysis, continuity checks, beat breakdowns… essentially, I make sure that everything that's filmed is exactly as stated in the script. Theoretically, anyway. I'm still considered just an apprentice, even though I've been at it for three years." As she said this, Allison began playing with a bit of her hair. Her voice was rather flippant, and Leonardo picked up on this. "I take it this wasn't exactly your first choice for a job?"

Allison looked back up at him. "Oh, it was, actually. It was the best I could expect, being a college drop-out and having a single connection with the studio. And the pay's fantastic; I mean, I can afford both a one-room apartment and a car, which is pretty rare for someone in my position in New York City. It just… it's kind of a half-baked thing, really, since I had always wanted to be a writer. Instead, I'm just paying homage to things that _other_ people have written. I'm still writing, and I think it's better than some of the things that are actually turned into films, so it's… discouraging, to say the least."

With a thin smile of understanding, Leonardo told her, "It is said, 'He who forgets himself is never forgotten.' If you write without letting your desire for success overcome you, chances are that you'll get your break." Allison allowed a moment of silence to pass before she commented, "So, first you're telling me about Buddhism, and now you're quoting from the _Tao Te Ching_?" Laughing in surprise, Leonardo stated, "You _are_ good, aren't you?"

"I try," she laughed in return. "Eastern philosophy and culture have always interested me, so that explains why I've retained this information better than I did, say, nuclear physics." Leonardo nodded. "Don't let Donatello hear you say that. He might just attempt to rival you on the physics thing." Allison laughed again, and Leonardo asked, "What is it that you found so intriguing about the East?"

"… I guess it was their sense of aesthetics. Everything is just so ritual, so beautiful."

Drawing a hand up to gently touch the hilt of one of his swords, Leonardo replied, "Yeah, I know what you mean." Unsheathing the sword and bringing it before him, he looked at the blade as he marveled, "It's so strange that something that could be easily twisted according to anger or other emotions can also be one of the most beautiful art forms ever created." Her eyes going over the blade, Allison murmured, "Martial arts. As beautiful as it is deadly." Noting her quiet awe, Leonardo inquired, "Have you ever practiced it?"

"No," she answered, still looking at the sword. "The only sort of fighting skills I have are from a couple of fencing classes in college and watching far too many movies." Her eyes continued to gaze at the blade as Leo responded, "Maybe when you're fully healed, you can come back for a few lessons. I think you may appreciate it." He was about to return the sword to its place when Allison suddenly took hold of his wrist. Seeing that her expression had changed somewhat as she focused on the weapon, he asked, "What is it?"

Squinting at the reflective surface of the blade, Allison tried not to shake her hand and blur her view. She could have sworn that, through the sword, she saw something shift behind her in the shadows. Ridiculous, of course. These were sewers, after all, and so shifting silhouettes and the occasional critter weren't unheard of. And yet….

There. Again. From a corner nook on top of one of the cabinets, something moved in the gloom, and a pale red glint could be seen. Her hand trembled, and Leonardo put his free hand over it and pried her off of him. "Just be still," he whispered. Her eyes affixed on the gray shape only a few feet behind and above her, Allison shuddered.

It was all right. Leonardo was there. He apparently spotted the figure as well. He was going to take precautions, he had a plan forming in his head already, and it would just be a routine extermination of a sewer rat. Nothing more.

And then Michelangelo had to ruin her mantra with a sudden scream.

Allison flinched, and at the same time, the dark shape jumped from its place above and landed on her uninjured shoulder. She felt a scream rise up as she recognized the biting sensation of claws, but was stunned to silence when a flash of steel darted out a few inches away from her face. Stumbling out of her seat, she saw Leonardo shake the impaled rat from his sword as he got up.

"Are you all right?" Leonardo asked hurriedly. Regaining her balance, Allison nodded, unable to speak. The dead rat was gigantic, surpassing the size of the rats she had seen earlier. Sounds of a skirmish came from the room where the other two turtles had been enjoying their video game, and Allison's skin prickled as she heard the scratch of uncountable claws from what appeared to be everywhere. Leonardo quickly stepped towards her and took a firm grip on her arm. He was about to tell her something when he was silenced by numerous immense blasts coming from somewhere within the lair.

The infrastructure trembled and Allison instinctively ducked, pulling Leonardo down some of the way with her. She tried to throw her arms protectively over her head, but then realized that Leonardo still had a hold of her arm. Looking up at him, her heart skipped a beat when she saw his panicked expression, and then her contact with him was gone as he tore away from her, more blasts echoing through the corridors. Hearing the squeaks of the rats now and realizing that the explosions were forming openings for them to come through, Allison stood and anxiously called Leonardo's name.

He stopped at the doorway, but it wasn't because of her voice. A phobia already having been developed in these past few hours, Allison felt a wave of terror at the sight of dozens of rats clamoring around the turtle's feet. "Get back!" Her senses deadened by the sight of rodents that were even more aggressive than her previous attackers, this command didn't make it to Allison's brain until the second time it was yelled. "Allison, _get back_! Go stay with Master Splinter!" Her eyes slowly floated up to look at the person shouting at her as he fended himself from the scores of rats that jumped at him. _Master Splinter… a rat…. I need to go to a rat to protect myself from rats._ "Allison!" Leonardo nearly screamed. Realizing that he was fighting so hard in order to keep the rats from getting past him and to _her_, Allison snapped out of it. "Go to Master Splinter!" Grasping that he needed to go and check on his brothers after the sudden scream and the explosions that originated from their section of the lair, Allison nodded, turned, and ran for the rice paper door she had seen Leonardo and his sensei disappear into earlier.

Sliding open the door, Allison thought, _This entry's not gonna hold up against a rat attack if even _one_ of them comes through._ Dashing inside and slamming the door closed behind her, she hardly managed to call half of the rat's name before she saw what lay within the room. Debris. Smoke. Small fires that could have been caused by a combination of detonation flares and candlelight. Whatever happened, it had happened recently. Clouds of smoke and dust were still in the air, obscuring most of her vision.

Coughing, Allison stepped warily into the room. "Master Splinter?" Pulling her shirt over her nose and mouth to filter out the contaminants of the destruction, she proceeded with extreme caution. _All of those blasts_ didn't_ come from Mike and Donatello. Maybe only one or two did, but the majority of them were here. M… maybe that was just a… just a diversion. Maybe…._ Remembering now about the power the Rat King seemed to exhibit over all rats, Allison's eyes widened with terror. _No! It can't be!_ "Splinter!" Her voice raised in a desperate cry now, Allison surveyed the entire area for a trembling hand rising amongst the wreckage or a wavering pained voice in response to her. She waited in vain.

Splinter was indeed gone.

A tunnel of sorts had been formed along one wall by the blasts, and it was doubtless that whatever came in or out had used the new hole as a means of escape. She began jogging towards the opening, then stopped. _Who am I kidding? I'm hurt and have no weapons. This would be the most stupid thing I've ever done._ Though she knew it would worry Leonardo and the others, she had to tell them about Splinter's disappearance. _And what about Raphael? Can he protect himself?_ The question seemed foolish, but the insanity of the sudden attack drove her back out the door and she stumbled out, looking for Leonardo.

Soon enough, she found that he had met up with Michelangelo and Donatello, and the three brothers were doing their best to take care of the rat problem. "Leonardo!" The turtle looked up at her, his eyes stern. "I told you to stay with Master Splinter!" At that moment, one of the rodents jumped from the ground at her, but before she could even recognize this threat, it had fallen to the floor helpless as a nunchuck wrapped itself around its body. Allison took a step back in surprise, but it was pointless. Michelangelo had already retrieved his weapon from the rat and put it out of commission, standing before Allison protectively.

"Bud, you better get goin'!" Michelangelo told her as another three of the vermin jumped for him. He easily threw them all back with a single swing, and Allison clutched onto his shell. "Mike! Splinter… there's been an accident!" The turtle whirled around, shocked. "Wha-? Master Splinter? What happened?" Another rat landed atop of Michelangelo's shoulder and was absently thrown to the ground by the preoccupied reptile.

"I don't know," Allison responded. "His room's been trashed and he's missing! I think the Rat King-" She was quickly and almost desperately interrupted by Leonardo. "Allison! Get to Raphael's room and lock yourself in there. Make sure he doesn't try to get up to fight." Allison nodded, the distressed turtle she had been speaking to pushing her off in the direction of Raphael's room. "They're gonna follow you, bud, so run! I'll keep them back!" Hurriedly, Allison followed orders.

She was only intercepted by a handful of rodents as she sped down the corridor to the room with the door still ajar, easily enough kicked away. _There are probably some in there already. Raphael's probably already up and fighting. _Getting to Raphael's door, Allison wrenched it open. She stopped, stunned yet again as her mind slowly wrapped around what she was seeing.

Raphael was standing a few feet in front of her, a sai in one hand while the other hand clutched at his injury. He was hunched over and breathing hard. Allison detected activity to her left and saw the homeless man with the bandaged face. His hat and trench coat were gone, showing that his entire body was cover in the same manner, giving him a ghostly air. He stood some feet away from another giant gape in the wall that was caused by his bombs, and a little before him… was Master Splinter. It wasn't, however, the Master Splinter she had become acquainted with not an hour before. The eyes gleamed with malicious intent and cruel calculation, unlike the kindly sharp eyes that belonged to the person who had told her the story of the turtles' origins. It was as Allison had feared; the Rat King had overpowered Splinter during the surprise attack, and was going to use him against the turtles.

Her entrance appeared to go unnoticed. Raphael was either hurt or had aggravated his wounds, and Splinter only seemed to notice whatever the Rat King noticed. The Rat King seemed to focus on only one thing right now: Raphael. "Destroy him," Allison heard the maniacal voice order. "Yes, master," came the response from Splinter's mouth.

_No!_ Before she even knew what she was doing, Allison ran into the room just as Splinter charged at Raphael. She saw the sensei take to the air in a kick, and Allison jumped as well, diving in front of Raphael, knowing she wouldn't be heavy enough to take him completely out of danger's way with just a push. She heard the surprised turtle utter, "Wha-" just as Splinter's foot collided with her chest.

It felt as though her sternum exploded in an avalanche of pain. Having been kicked in midair, she fell back into Raphael, and the force of the hit was strong enough to send both girl and turtle flying. They landed on Raphael's shell, and a voice cried out. Allison didn't know if it was Raphael crying out in pain or Splinter coming to his senses or one of the other turtles running in and seeing what had happened. She tried to inhale, but found with horror that she couldn't. _No! Oh God, no!_ Her chest heaved, but she felt no oxygen coming into her lungs, and she began to panic, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing.

Commotion. Voices yelling. Ground shaking. Another explosion. Debris falling. Ears ringing. Air parted. She was picked up. More yelling. Was she okay? Running. Breath still not coming. A haze developing behind her eyes. Dying? No. She can't. What would Robert do? Is Raphael- did she save him? Splinter? What? No!

Her thoughts becoming confused, Allison allowed the darkness to take her.


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh God, what a crazy dream._

Such was the thought when Allison slowly opened her eyes and recognized the sight before her as her dim bedroom. The shades were drawn and morning sunlight seeped into the room. _How bizarre,_ she thought as she tried to stretch. _My shoulders. My chest. As sore as they would have been in the dream. Maybe I fell out of bed?_ Groggily moving a hand to massage her hurting shoulder, Allison was suddenly wide awake when her hand came across something all-too familiar.

Peering to look, she saw that her hand and shoulder were both bandaged, and realized that this was the second time she had tried to convince herself that this had been a dream. More than the bandages, however, her eyes passed across a huddled mass lying besides her on her full-sized bed. Eyes widening, Allison tried to get her vision to adjust to the gloom. _I… I can't believe it. I'm waking up next to a… a turtle!_

Recognizing the red bandana, Allison quickly rolled off the bed and landed on her knees on her carpet, her eyes focused on the slumbering mutant in shock. Looking down, she noted with horror that her shirt was missing and she was only in her bra and jeans. _Oh no, no way did I… we didn't… no… I…._ "I need a drink," she whispered aloud.

Forcing herself onto her feet and hoping that there was no long-term damage, Allison stumbled over to her wardrobe and pulled out a button-up baseball shirt. Looking in the mirror as she carefully adjusted the shirt, Allison turned on the small overheard light over her mirror and gazed at her reflection. There was a sickly purple bruise that spread about eight inches over her chest, just above her breasts. Touching her fingertips to the new wound, she flinched sharply. It was very tender, and every small inhalation seemed to exact pressure upon it. _I don't feel like I've broken a rib_, she thought as she buttoned the shirt. _But then, I've never gotten kicked in the chest by a giant ninja rat before, so there could still be some weird complications that I'm just not picking up on._

Grabbing a hair tie and pulling her tussled hair into a ponytail, Allison shut the overhead light and quietly crept out of her room. _Why'd they leave Raphael with me?_ Had they simply tossed him there as a halfway house so they could go off and rescue their master? Allison stopped when she entered the living room. Standing behind the sofa, she could see a pair of oddly-shaped feet over the armrest. Creeping closer to the couch, she saw what she had expected to see; a turtle lying face down and peacefully asleep on her sofa. Looking up, she noticed a shadowed figure sitting in what looked like the lotus position in the corner by her window.

_Well, that's three_, she thought, surveying the rest of the room. _Where's the fourth one?_ Knowing there was really only one other place, Allison walked across the living room and opened the door leading to the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Donatello sitting at her kitchen table, typing away at something that looked like an advanced laptop of sorts. Upon her entrance, the turtle looked up and gave her a small smile. "Good morning," he whispered quietly, closing the laptop and giving her his attention. "How are you feeling?"

Seeing the mutant turtle sitting casually at her kitchen table, the confusion of the past twelve or so hours finally hit home. _He's not supposed to be here_, she found herself thinking somewhat resentfully as she stood immobilized by the door. _He's supposed to be in a movie, or a comic book, or in some anime. At best, he should be in an aquarium. This is _not_ natural._ The thought of the word brought back her conversation with Raphael from the previous night. She had told him it was natural for his brothers to worry about him, and he had retorted back that _she_ was one to talk about "natural." Standing there now, she felt ashamed to know what he meant.

Donatello's smile wavered a bit at her silence. "…is something wrong?" His concern only made her feel worse and even more confused. Something that would be the subject of a 1950's horror movie was sitting in her kitchen and asking her how she's feeling. When did her life turn into one of the scripts she scrutinized for a living? And if it was a script, why couldn't she think of a line to get the scene moving?

Seeing him stand up and warily approach her, Allison realized that tears were brimming in her eyes. Turning away from him and covering her face with one hand, she tried to pull herself together. _Come on, this is stupid. He's worried, and you're fine. You're just very confused. And if you try to explain your feelings to him, you're likely to just hurt him. He's got his own problems right now. Suck in your stupid tears, stop being a baby, and just _face_ this!_ A hand gently touched her back, and when she realized that "hand" wasn't really the right term for it, she found herself beginning to cry even more. The small sobs hurt her chest, and she gingerly drew her other hand against her bruise, still trying to calm herself down, if only for the sake of being able to breathe easier.

Another hand took the one from her chest and gently pulled it down. "Hey, take it easy," Donatello told her worriedly. "I was gonna tell you that you shouldn't even talk that much for a while until your bruises heal up, so crying's out of the question. Come on, now, please stop."

Lowering her hand from her eyes to cover only her mouth, Allison heard someone enter behind her. "What's wrong?" It was Michelangelo's voice. Donatello turned to him and said, "I don't know. Stress, I think." The other turtle approached her and she felt him put an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, don't cry, bud," he said optimistically. "At least you're still standing. Usually when we meet someone new, their house has already been ransacked by this time or they've been kidnapped or-" He was dryly interrupted by Donatello. "Mikey, something tells me you're not helping her."

She allowed herself to be led away by Donatello as Michelangelo uttered an apology. "Here," Donatello told her quietly, pulling her into a chair. "Sit down, relax." She allowed herself to be seated and rested her head in her hands, more out of embarrassment of her tears rather than not wanting to face them. "Mikey," Donatello whispered as Allison slowly calmed down. "Try and give Casey a call and ask him to start doing a ground search for Master Splinter and the Rat King." Michelangelo agreed to the task and Allison was left alone with Donatello once again.

There was a bit of silence, and Allison could hear Michelangelo's voice through the wall as he contacted this Casey person. Finally being able to look up, Allison looked ahead at the wall in front of her, putting her hands down on the table. She had managed to release a little bit of her inner bewilderment, but she knew it wasn't enough. For now, she had to be strong and help the turtles rescue their master without too many questions, just as they blindly jumped into the thrall and helped her and the victimized girl the night before. _Yes, but they're used to dealing with humans. We don't know of _their_ existence, and that makes it so much harder when they just jump into our lives._

Her thoughts were interrupted when a glass of water was set besides her hand. She looked at it as Donatello sat himself adjacent to her. "Maybe that will make you feel better?" Allison's mind still numb as she tried to put her thoughts in order, she looked from the glass to the turtle and back again. Finally, she reached out and wrapped her hand around the glass, not moving it. "Th… y… yes. Thank you." Donatello continued to just look at her, and so she moved the glass to her lips and took a sip. The cold water seemed to both soothe and shock her injury as she swallowed, causing her to wince somewhat.

"You'll be fine," Donatello told her lowly, returning to his laptop and typing again. "There are a couple of things you might be worried about, so let me get one of them out of the way and tell you that you're all right. It's a miracle, too. With such a direct hit to the body of the sternum from someone as powerful as Sensei, _some_thing should have broken. Your heart might've skipped a beat or two, but according to the images I got from my pocket X-ray-" At this, he turned the laptop around to show her, to her surprise, a chest X-ray. "-you don't even have a single fracture. I kept checking up on you and Raph every hour, and both of you are doing very well. I'm guessing you saw the bruise, and I'm guessing it hurts a lot. By tomorrow, your breathing shouldn't hurt, and the bruises should fade away in another week, give or take. I'd warn against heavy exercise for a while, though, possibly even months. I know it might not seem like it, but you really got lucky.

"You might also be worried about the rats. Don't be, at least not for now. When Mikey stumbled in after you and Raph and drew mine and Leo's attention to Master Splinter, the Rat King seemed to turn tails. From what I could guess, he was planning to get rid of us one by one, starting with Raph, who he knew was already weakened. Though he had us in a bad spot when we saw Master Splinter, he probably wanted to stick to some sort of plan he hashed out, so decided to retreat, taking out a wall close to you and Raphael in the process. He knew it'd slow us down since we couldn't just leave the two of you behind, so we got you out just before the walls crashed down. I told them to get you up to the surface, and while they left, I went to the kitchen and dug out this bottle of Lysol that our friend had bought down months ago. I remembered that we never used it too much because Master Splinter complained that the sharp smell hurt his sensitive nose, so as I ran to catch up with the others and grabbed my med bag from the floor on my way out, I sprayed the stuff behind me… and sure enough, the rats backed off. They couldn't take the heavy smell of it, and the odor neutralizers in it would wipe away our scents, so they couldn't trail us. When I met up with the guys, I saw your keys hanging out of your pocket and remembered that you had your ID on you, so I suggested we come back here until we got strong enough to leave."

Allison listened to the story quietly. It wasn't enough for her life to have been saved by turtles, but now it was saved by an air freshener? If she wasn't absolutely numb, she would have laughed and mentioned how she could never stand the acrid smell of Lysol either, so she couldn't really blame the rats.

Any humor that may have built up in her dissipated when Donatello continued. "And that," he said in a solemn voice, "might be another reason for you to be upset." Allison's eyes drifted up to the turtle who had shut his laptop once more and was focusing on her with his large brown eyes. "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. "I should have guessed that you were still uncomfortable with us, that this whole thing is still a shock. After everything that happened to you, I should have expected for it to be too much for you. Once I see that Raphael's well enough to walk without assistance, we'll get going and stay with a friend of ours. We won't have to bother you anymore, Allison. I'm sorry."

Allison couldn't believe her ears. After she had mentally reprimanded herself for letting these past events get to her when these creatures had just had their home destroyed and their teacher kidnapped, she was now being apologized to for… what? The inconvenience? _These guys just saved my life,_ she told herself as she examined the apologetic turtle. _And I'm being a hypocrite by letting their physical differences get to me rather than seeing them for the awesome guys they are. So why is _he_ apologizing to _me "I… _I'm_ sorry, Donatello," she finally stammered. Donatello shook his head. "You don't have to say that-"

"Yes I do," she quickly interrupted, raising her voice and thus aggravating her injury, driving her into a coughing fit. Donatello wrapped a hand around her shoulder before she finally stopped, her vision bleary with tears from the coughs. He picked up her glass and was about to press it to her lips when she managed to blurt out, "I have to say it because it's true! I'm sorry for not having my head on straight and for not being able to help you and for probably leading that rat bastard right to you! I'm sorry, Donatello, that humans are such self-centered morons and that even the best of us who preach open-mindedness are still shocked into tears when they encounter something that requires them to open their minds. I'm sorry for wanting so much to find the truth behind where you came from and forming logic out of it that I never even got to thank you for saving my life. I'm sorry, Don, I'm really, really sorry for making you think that I don't want you around, because the more I think back to yesterday, the more I realize that I _need_ you around." Tears overflowed her eyes once again, but these were more gentle and unaccompanied by sobs as she realized that she had finally said all she needed to say. "I'm sorry for not understanding," she finally whispered thinly. "I'm only human"

She looked at Donatello, who seemed surprised by her outburst. For a moment they did nothing more than look at one another, until Donatello's eyes drifted away from her. Following his eyes, Allison turned around and saw Leonardo standing at the doorway, looking down at the two of them with a strange expression on his face. She suddenly felt embarrassed as the silence lasted another few seconds. Finally, Leonardo asked, "Am I interrupting something… again?"

As Allison slowly found the ironic déjà vu in the situation, Donatello replied, "No. She's just… just stressed. That's all." Unconvinced, Leonardo nodded at his brother's explanation and stayed immobile at the doorway. Looking for some way to change the subject, Donatello looked back at Allison. "Let me have another look at your bruises," he told her. "Just to be sure."

Looking away from Leonardo, she mumbled, "Sure." However, she tensed up yet again when she felt Donatello begin to undo her t-shirt. "Uh," she corrected, blushing furiously and pulling his hand away. "On second thought, maybe you'd better make sure Raphael's all right, instead." Seeming to look at her rather curiously, Donatello complied and got up from the table. _It's not like he hasn't already seen me shirtless,_ she realized as Donatello left the kitchen. _Heck, _he's_ probably the one who took my shirt off to begin with. Do they even understand the concept of bras and why girls wear them?_

Her hand still at her chest as she redid the button Donatello had managed to unfasten, Allison looked up and saw that Leonardo had stepped in and was standing behind the other chair of her small dining set. "How are you feeling?" Allison looked down as he asked the question, pulling a few loose strands of hair away from her face and tucking them behind her ear. It was the same question Donatello had asked only moments before, but she had managed to release some of her tension on him. She would have to thank him for that later. "Better," she replied, not bothering to elucidate. "You?"

There was a moment of silence before the level voice responded, "Not sure." Allison looked up. Leonardo was looking past her, out thewindow by the sink that faced out into a small, rundown playground. After a moment's deliberation, Allison reached out and gently placed a hand atop one his. At the touch, Leonardo looked down at her. "Hey," she said quietly in what she hoped would be a reassuring voice. "We'll find him. If the Rat King is after you guys, it won't take long for us to find him and your sensei."

"_We'll_ find him," Leonardo repeated, taking hold of her hand and placing it on the table. "My brothers and I. _You'll_ stay here and recuperate, and return to business as usual." Stating his name argumentatively, Allison was interrupted before she could even begin. "Allison, do you have any idea what happened to you last night? Your injuries went from a few bruises and scratches to something that could have seriously affected your respiratory system. To put it simply, you could have _died_. We have enough people who have been drawn into our circle over the years who risk their lives; I'd rather not bring someone else into this."

"Well, what do you think _I_ was?" Allison stood quickly, trying hard not to flinch at the pain in her chest as she did so and end up proving Leonardo right. "Do you think I was just ambling down the street and thinking, hey; let's see if there's any trouble I can purposely get into! I was drawn into this too, Leonardo. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but the moment Mike decided to bring me back to your lair rather than bringing me back here and letting me believe it was all just a crazy dream, I became a part of your 'circle.' And that happened because you risked your lives to help two random girls in the street. Why can't I risk mine if I want to?"

"Because you're not trained for it." Leonardo's voice grew stern, surprising Allison. Seeing that he broke his eye contact with her, however, she felt that he was only hardening his exterior because he felt he needed to. "Allison, a power such as Sensei's can be indescribably dangerous when it's in the wrong hands. I'm not even sure Don, Mikey, and I would be able to do anything to Master Splinter if it came down to it. The Rat King knows that, and he's sure to abuse it. So please, I appreciate your concern, but stay out of this."

"Leonardo-" Allison began again, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of hurried knocks at her front door. Eyes widening in surprised, she darted past Leonardo and left the kitchen, walking to the front door and peering through the peephole. Through the small glass view she could see a deformed version of Robert. "Crap," she exclaimed lowly. Turning around to face the living room, she whispered, "You all need to-" Finding herself speaking to an empty apartment with her bedroom door swinging silently shut, she murmured, "Disappear?" Before she could contemplate their sudden invisibility, the knocking started again. Hoping for the best, Allison turned and unlocked the door, opening it wide.

"Hey Rob-"

"Holy God!" Allison was forced back a few steps as her friend burst into her apartment, enveloping her in a tight embrace, his small baby in his free arm. "What the hell happened? I called you at least three times, and on my way to the daycare center I saw your car behind the old church and the windshield was smashed! What happened to you, Allison!"

"Rob," she began, trying to gently pry him away as he put pressure on both her injured shoulder and bruised chest. "Rob, I'm okay. Really. Just… ow, get off!" He stepped away only an inch and looked at her face. "My God, you're bruised! Is that a split lip? Were you mugged? …raped?"

"Rob," she said again, but was cut off by the flailing arms and happy sounds coming from the small child in his arm. "Hey there, Rosalind," she cooed, taking the baby from Robert and turning away, grateful for the distraction. Walking into her apartment and removing the infant's hat and scarf, she continued, "You look better, sweetie. Oh, and your fever's gone. Looks like you still have the sniffles though."

"Allison, stop ignoring me." Robert's voice was harsh enough to get her to stop. "What happened to your face? Just tell me and we can go file a police report." Allison looked back at him. "My face has nothing to do with my car, honest. I didn't even know it was smashed until you just told me."

"You're taking it rather well, in that case," he countered suspiciously. Allison shrugged, turning back to Rosalind as Robert shut the door behind him and untied his scarf. "The car was crap anyway. That's how I got in this mess in the first place." Flicking on the light and stepping into Allison's line of vision once again, Robert repeated, "What happened?"

Seeming to pay extreme attention on Rosalind's face for signs of sickness, Allison lightly said, "Well, my car broke down when I came back from your place last night, and I didn't have my cell phone. I didn't want to just stick around a tough neighborhood as I waited for a tow truck or something, so I figured I'd jog back home and just get the car checked out in the morning."

"You did _what_?"

As Robert began lecturing her on how foolish she was for walking through the streets of New York at night by herself when she knew she could have called him from a payphone and he would have picked her up, Allison shifted uncomfortably. _Guess I _am_ gonna have to fudge the rest of the story._ "Yeah, whatever," Allison broke in. "Do you want to hear the rest or not?"

Though he was still fuming, Robert quieted down and crossed his arms over his chest as Allison continued. "The rest is just my own stupidity. As I was running, I thought I heard someone behind me, so I turned to look, missed a curb, and fell flat on my face." Pointing to her bandaged hand, Robert asked, "And what about that?" Having forgotten about the visible bandage, Allison couldn't help but state the truth. "A rat bit me while I was down."

"A rat?"

"Yeah."

"Bit you so hard you needed to bandage your entire palm?"

"It was a pretty big rat."

"…Allison, do you expect me to believe-"

"Hey," she said, trying to smile at him. "What do you think happened? Some two-ton gang leader pistol-whipped me and some sewer creatures came to my rescue?" She laughed almost hysterically, realizing once again just how bizarre the truth is. Seemingly convinced by her story, Robert inquired, "What about the bite? It's not infected, is it?"

"No," she answered, flexing her hand slowly. "I had it checked out by a friend of mine who lives downstairs. He's good with that sort of thing." Seeming to be at a loss of what else to say, Robert commented, "Well, you should still go see a doctor." Allison nodded and replied, "I will. Don't worry. I'm gonna be sore for a couple of days, but I'll make a point of it."

"What about your car?"

"I can't say I hadn't expected it. I guess I'll just call the police in a bit and file a stupid report." Robert was about to say something in response, but Rosalind's small hands began beating on Allison's chest and she abruptly looked as though she were about to cry. "Uh-oh," Robert said, fishing inside the baby bag he had been carrying. "She must be getting hungry. Mind if I warm up her formula?" Careful not to drop the small girl as the pain flooded across her torso, Allison nodded and Robert left the room. She was about to put her down on the sofa to spare herself the ache, when Robert's voice suddenly came from the kitchen. "When'd you get a new laptop? I thought you still had a Dell."

"Uh…" Allison faltered as she remembered about Donatello's laptop. "That's… uh… for work." Stepping into the kitchen, she saw Robert turning the stove on, glancing at the computer on her table. "Work? They give you your own laptop now?" Knowing about Robert's knowledge of computers, Allison hoped that she could think quickly enough to stop him from asking more questions. "No, uh… it's uh… not really a laptop… it's um… I don't know what it is, really. Rhys gave it to me yesterday and said he'd come over to show me something on it. It's got some… some program that I'm supposed to… uh… something." Robert let out a single good-natured laugh. "You never _were_ one for computers, were you?" Sitting at the table and reaching out for the laptop, he asked, "Mind if I-"

"Don't!"

Robert looked up at her, surprised. "Uh, that is, it's expensive. Or, at least, not easily replaceable. I'd just rather… not touch it unless I know what I'm doing. Rhys… Rhys will show me." Robert considered her for a moment, knowing straightaway that something was wrong. "Right," he said quietly, sparing a glance at the cover of the laptop. "I don't know if the actual hardware's expensive, since it looks like something of a monster. Definitely custom-made, though it looks like it was collected from scraps. And that looks like a really _weird_ external disk drive, not something I've seen before." Sizing the laptop up as Allison put the baby in his arms, Robert finally murmured, "Bizarre. I'd never think anyone at Miramax would have use for a Frankenstein computer."

"Yeah, well," Allison said, trying to calm down as she carefully pulled the laptop away from Robert so Rosalind wouldn't unintentionally smash it, "you know Rhys. He's a little bizarre himself." Unbuttoning his coat as he began to get comfortable, Robert casually brought up, "So, is he still trying to land a date with you, or has his sense of business ethics finally caught up with him?"

"Wow, is it that time already?" Allison asked, quickly looking up at the clock hanging on the wall. "I haven't even washed up or anything." Annoyed, Robert spoke her name as she carefully gathered up the mysterious laptop. "Be right back, Rob. A girl's got to have her priorities." Hearing an angry half-groan, half-sigh behind her, Allison left father and daughter in the kitchen and stepped into the living room.

It wasn't so much that Robert was jealous of Rhys as it was that he simply loathed him. Only twenty-seven years old, Rhys Cleary was already a wealthy, accomplished script supervisor with a ten-year contract with Miramax. Being Rhys' "apprentice," Allison spent many late nights and weekends with him when they were working on projects, and Rhys occasionally congratulated her on her hard work with elaborate gifts, once even offering her a trip to Japan. As Allison's closest friend, Robert felt somewhat embittered that he couldn't offer her the same for everything she's done for him, but also didn't want to fathom the possibility of any of Rhys' materialistic personality ever rubbing off on her.

Heaving a deep sigh and wincing a bit at the pain it brought to her chest, Allison noted that her bedroom door was now ajar. Making her way over to the door, she peaked into the room, then opened it wide and stepped in. The room was empty. Her window was open, the cold wind blowing the curtains over the unmade bed.

Stunned, Allison jumped at the sound of Robert's voice directly behind her. "Listen," he started, cut short by Allison's surprised cry. "Hey, calm down, Ally." Wrapping his baby-free armaround Allison's shoulders, he looked into the room. "Wow, you haven't even made your bed. Did I wake you, or are you really just feeling that bad?" Pulling away from him, she gently set the computer at her desk. "N- no. I just… I didn't feel like making it."

"Allison, you _never_ allow your bed to be unmade when no one's in it." Allison tried to search for an answer, but looking up at Robert made her realize his veiled implication. "Y… you think there was someone here?" Robert shrugged, not looking at her. "Hey," he stated steadily, "it's not my responsibility to rag on you for your sex life or anything-" She quickly interrupted him. "Robert, go feed your daughter and stop making stupid hypotheses, okay?"

"Was it Rhys?"

After her earlier emotional outburst and the strain of her injuries and now wondering whether or not she'll ever see the turtles again, Allison couldn't deal with Robert's inquiries. Pushing him out of the room, she said, "Look, quit being stupid and let me at least brush my teeth. I don't want you burning down my apartment because you weren't watching the baby formula."

Closing the door in his face before he could complain, Allison walked into the bathroom in her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Sighing, she approached the mirror over her sink and slowly began to undo her baseball shirt. _There must be something I can put on this bruise to keep it from hurting so much_, she thought. _I just wish the guys didn't take off so suddenly. They've got to come back for Donatello's computer thing, but why would they even take-_

Through the mirror, Allison saw a shape behind the shower curtain, hardly lit by the sunshine coming in through the small window. When it started to move, she gasped sharply and was about to let out a scream as she turned before it quickly jumped out of her bathtub and clamped a hand over her mouth. The sudden intake of breath making it difficult to breathe for a moment, Allison panicked even as she realized that the shape hiding in her shower had been Raphael.

Seeing her disturbed expression, Raphael didn't move. "Keep quiet, will ya? Did you forget that I'm one of the _good_ guys?" Managing to pull Raphael's hand away from her, Allison leaned back against a wall, trying hard to breathe normally. "Hey, what's wrong?" Raphael whispered. Lowering herself onto the ground, Allison blocked him out for a moment so that she could get her respiration back in order. Closing her eyes and drawing her knees up to her chest, she thought, _This whole chest injury thing is _really_ not helping me if I'm gonna get snuck up on by ninjas for a while._

After nearly half a minute, she was finally able to inhale and exhale with no more pain than she had woken up with. Raising her head and opening her eyes, she was surprised to see that Raphael had knelt before her, his hands on her shoulders as his face showed the closest to concern she had seen on him. "You okay?"

With a quick, sudden movement, she pushed him back with the heel of her hand, obviously startling him. Falling back into a sitting position opposite her, he glared at her in astonishment, then hostility. "_Don't_ scare me like that again," she told him coolly. With a growl, Raphael retaliated, "And _don't_ push me around. _Ever_. Got that?"

Propping her elbow on her commode and resting her head in her hand, she questioned, "And what the hell were you doing in my shower, anyway?" Standing up and continuing to glower at her, he responded, "What's wrong? Stingy with your Herbal Essences or something?" Ignoring him as she slowly made her way to her feet, Allison lowered her voice when she remembered that they weren't alone in the apartment. "Where did the others go?"

"Probably to go get in touch with one of our contacts. How long is the friend staying?" Turning to the sink, Allison ran the cold water. Looking up at Raphael through the mirror, she asked, "Why? Got another cereal craving?" She didn't see his reaction to her comment as she splashed the cold water across her face, but could tell that it was probably the antithesis of that almost-caring face that had been in front of her seconds before. "Jeez, you get awfully snippy in the morning." Grabbing a towel, Allison dried her face, looking in the mirror once again to be careful of her damaged lip. _Ugh, that looks really gross._ "I'm a woman, Red," she told him as she got her toothbrush. "You'll get used to it."

"Hope I never _have_ to."

Paying no attention to him, she began to brush her teeth. She could see his green form standing out against her blue and white bathroom, and wondered if he was looking at her or getting lost in his own thoughts. _Why doesn't he get out? Or does he not understand the concept of privacy?_ Thinking about it for a moment as she dropped her eyes, she realized, _But then, why should he? They probably didn't even have bathrooms or anything in their lair. In their _home.

What were they going to do now? Leonardo and the others were probably convening with this Casey person she heard about, and would be back eventually to pick up Raphael and whatever they might have left behind. What then? Donatello mentioned that they would stay with a friend of theirs, but for how long? If the sewers were their home, they'd want to go back. Could there _really_ be multitudes of abandoned subway stations and whatnot beneath the city? Of course there could; the thought just hadn't occurred to her before. _And that means that the Rat King could just as easily be in one of them… along with Master Splinter._

Rinsing out her mouth, she remembered Leonardo's strict orders to stay out of this. But _surely_ there was something she could do. There _had_ to be. In movies, there's _always_ a reason for the protagonist to be swept up in the action;they always had some random talent or strength that would turn the tables. _This isn't a movie_, she reminded herself as she dried her mouth and finished up. _As much as I'd like to believe otherwise, there's no overweight, balding, caffeine-chugging writer pulling the strings in all of this… and I'd like to believe that any form of God would _not_ be overweight, balding, and addicted to caffeine._

Done and already feeling more awake, Allison turned around and faced Raphael. He was leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest, seeming to listen intently to something. She tried to speak, but he shushed her. Nervous once more, Allison strained her ears. She couldn't pick up any sounds. After another moment, Raphael stepped away from the door. "Your friend's got a habit of leaving your apartment without telling you?" Allison replied that he didn't, and Raphael told her, "Well, I don't hear the brat and just heard your front door close."

"What?" Opening the door and leaving, Allison made her way into the kitchen. Sure enough, Robert and Rosalind were gone. Confused, she was about to go check the front door when she spotted a note on the table and picked it up. It read, "The next time you lie about Rhys (or other men), please have the tact to not raise your voice at him when you're in the bathroom together. It hurts that you think you need to lie to me about something so trivial."

She had to read the words several times before she could believe what Robert had written. "Jesus, Robert," she finally breathed. "This isn't high school." Hearing something at her front door, Allison quickly left the kitchen, but stopped at the doorway when she saw it was just Raphael locking the door. "Don't want 'im comin' back in," he explained. "Since lying in your unmade bed seems to say that we're closer than I'd wanna be, I think I'd rather crash on the couch."

Allison watched him slowly make his way to her sofa, and she gently intercepted him, putting a hand on his arm. "Hey, I don't know if Donatello thinks you're fit enough to walk around much yet." Shrugging her off, he continued on to the sofa. "Yeah, well Donny ain't here, so what're ya gonna do? Tattle on me?"

"I could at least help you into the kitchen so you could get something to eat." Raphael responded to her offer with an odd look before he spoke. "If this is a set-up for another cereal joke, can it, alright?" Allison shrugged. "Look, I'm just gonna make something to eat for myself, so I figured I might as well offer to get _you_ something, too. If you're gonna be an ass about it, then go lie on the sofa and decompose." With a satirical sigh, she added, "Jeez, this is what I get for sleeping with you, huh?"

Raphael looked at her for a moment, a faint half-smile on his lips. Veering off in the direction of the kitchen, he stated, "Button up your shirt, before I start asking personal questions as to _why_ your friend assumed you're sleeping around." Looking down, Allison noticed that she had never fastened her buttons after undoing them in the bathroom before she had spotted Raphael.

Adjusting her shirt and following him, she called out, "Jerk."


	7. Chapter 7

"How's the food?"

Allison glanced at Raphael as she finished making her own breakfast omelet. Though he was nearly done, he mumbled, "Where'd ya get the eggs? The Stone Age?" A hand around the handle of the pan she had just used, Allison remarked, "Don't make me smite you with a frying pan, okay?" Gathering her plate and utensils, she moved to sit next to him as he muttered, "I should be terrified, I think. Doesn't make you a better cook, though." With a defeated sigh as she picked up her fork, Allison told him, "Look, I'm out of bread and cereal. The only other things I have that are easy to prepare are granola bars and ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Allison looked up from her breakfast, surprised to see that the turtle's face had lit up. "Did you just say 'ice cream'?" Watching him get up and make his way over to the freezer, Allison dryly remarked, "I take it that Splinter never taught you about healthy eating." Removing a pint of chocolate chip ice cream from Allison's freezer, Raphael replied, "Never being taught's not the same as never bothering to learn." As he returned to the table with the ice cream and a spoon, Allison realized, "You're just a kid. A big, green, mean-tempered kid." A spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, Raphael corrected, "A big, green, mean-tempered kid who can kick your ass."

Hoping the ice cream would cool down his temper, Allison turned back to her food. _He's right_, she thought disappointedly. _These eggs are crap._ She ate them nonetheless. The last thing she had eaten was leftover Chinese food, and she would probably need all of the energy she could get, especially if she wanted to heal properly. The thought of her injuries bringing back to mind Raphael's much more serious wounds, she looked back up at him. "How are your injuries?"

Raphael shrugged. "Injurious." Allison blinked at his response. "Wow," she said, "that wasn't even a smartass comment. That was just stupid." Raphael glared up at her. "Y'know, I'm beginning to think that you're startin' to get too comfortable around me." With a small smirk, Allison replied, "Might as well. Who knows when the others will be back?" As Raphael seemed to fall into a contemplative silence, Allison realized that she shouldn't have brought them up. Could it be that underneath the harsh exterior Raphael put up, he was actually worried about his brothers? Of course he must have been concerned… how could she doubt it?

She looked for something to change the subject, but Raphael spoke up. "They'll be back soon," he said quietly. "And with Splinter, too. The Rat King's never been much of a problem." With a degree of hope, Allison asked, "Then the explosives and… stuff…. It's happened before?" Raphael remained quiet for a moment before asking, "How's your hand?"

Taking his avoidance of her question to mean a negative answer, Allison looked down at her bandaged palm. "Itchy, but okay." Taking a deep breath, she added, "Listen, about Splinter-" Raphael quickly spoke over her. "I'm assumin' Leo gave ya the 'stay outta this' talk. You should do that." Putting the ice cream down and standing suddenly, he told her without looking at her, "I'm gonna watch some TV." Before Allison could say anything, Raphael was already out the door.

Unable to help herself, Allison let out a sigh that sounded akin to a sob. She wanted to help them, but none of them were willing to accept her help. _They're probably right, you know,_ she told herself as she stood and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink. _There's nothing you can do for them, so it's not as though you can just tie a bandanna around your forehead and pack some throwing stars. You've already done all you can._

Grabbing the ice cream Raphael left behind and moving towards the freezer, Allison refused to listen to the logical side of her brain. Working with mostly horror and action films, her mind was already used to a certain sort of train of events. Someone like her wasn't just thrown into this for no reason. Maybe it was the last part of her that believed in fate that still pressed on. Whatever it was, it caused her to fall deep into thought, which never lead to wholly good things.

Reaching into the freezer to set down the ice cream, she cringed slightly at the pain to her chest. Remembering the explosive pain from the night before, she marveled, _I'm surprised that kick didn't kill me._ The thought made Allison stop, her arm still in the freezer. Why _hadn't_ the kick killed her? Donatello had even said that it was a miracle for nothing to be broken, and Splinter had been under order to kill Raphael. If the kick didn't even manage to seriously wound Allison, how could it have possibly killed Raphael? _Unless… unless he wasn't _trying_ to kill him._

Allison put a hand to her mouth in surprise, her eyes widening at the realization. Her mind tried to hurry up and reach a conclusion, but she turned away from the freezer and tried to calm her thoughts. _Easy, easy. It's just like character analysis. Find a motive, find a reason, track the behavior pattern. _

Because Allison stood about six inches taller than Raphael, and Splinter had hit her in the chest, it was clear that he had been aiming for Raphael's head. Though he could have caused some brain damage, the most obvious way to get rid of Raphael would have been to strike him near his wound, or just around his torso in general. A swift kick to the chest from someone as skilled as Splinter could have easily broken Raphael's ribs, puncture his lung, and he would be finished. A blow to the head may have caused a concussion or even brain damage, but if all it did to Allison was cause severe bruising, then Raphael would have only been knocked out.

_Maybe… maybe Splinter had enough control over himself to not _want_ to kill Raphael. Maybe he just wanted to make it _look_ like Raphael was dead, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe… maybe _that's_ why the Rat King left._ The more Allison thought about it, the more truth she saw to it. They had all been distracted and confused by the numerous explosions erupting throughout the lair. Each of the turtles had been more or less isolated. The Rat King grabbed Splinter while he was alone and took him to the turtle that was currently the most weakened. He wasn't trying to finish them off one-by-one because of some sort of sadistic glee (although that may very well have played a part in it). He was doing it because, together, the turtles would strengthen Splinter's resolve and break the strange hold the Rat King had over him. There was strategy. It was like a bizarre and macabre game of chess.

_Great, _Allison thought, _but so what? I'm sure the turtles might have figured this out, too. _However, this meant that Raphael was still a prime target. He was still injured, he was still likely to fight despite his injuries, and… he was still alone. Suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of responsibility, Allison realized that she needed to protect him in case the Rat King found them. _But he won't. Donatello used that Lysol stuff the entire way here, I'm sure. Unless they happen to wander in this part of the neighborhood, there's almost no chance that they'll pick up our scents._ Just to be on the safe side, Allison headed to her bathroom to see if she had her own can of Lysol.

Upon leaving the kitchen, Allison almost bumped directly into Raphael, who was standing a few feet away from the door. "Hey," she started, but stopped when she saw he was looking to the door with concentration. After a moment, he asked, "Any pets allowed in this building?"

Momentarily confused, Allison replied, "Pets? No bigger than fish. Why?" Suddenly hearing a terrifyingly familiar sound, Allison looked towards the door. Small shadows could be seen pacing outside of it through the crack between the door and her floor, and the sound of something small grinding through wood started seeping into the apartment. As Allison realized that these small grinders were teeth, Raphael replied, "Then we're about to have more unexpected visitors."

Allison took a step back, shocked. _No. Donatello… he's smart enough to have sprayed the Lysol around the building, right? _But then, why should he? If the rats were unable to trail them up to the building, Donatello had no reason to cover their trail once inside. This meant that, somehow, the rats managed to track them back to the apartment complex. Allison didn't have the chance to puzzle over how, as Raphael turned sharply towards her. "Where are the air ducts?"

"Air ducts?" Allison asked. "Well, there's one in the bathroom-" That was all she managed to say before Raphael sped off in the direction of her room. Not wanting to be alone in case the rats broke through, she quickly followed after him and slammed her door shut behind them. Raphael opened the door to her bathroom, and just as he did, a strange sort of wet _plunk_ came from the inside. His face contorted into one of disgust as another _plunk_ was sounded, and he quickly threw the door closed. "Gross," he muttered. "You need to talk to your landlord about the pests."

Realizing that the steady plunks were rats falling from the air ducts and landing in the toilet, Allison moaned, "Oh God." Raphael held out a hand to her. "C'mon," he said. "We'll take the back way." Desperate for any sort of plan, Allison took his hand. "Back way?" Raphael led her to the window that was still open from when his brothers had left through it earlier. Allison tried to pull back when she realized his intent. "Are you crazy? What do you think, that I can fly?"

"Yeah," Raphael answered sarcastically. "And I'm a transformer whose shell turns into a set of wings." Looking out the window as though assessing their surroundings, he said, "Look, you wanna trust me, or be rat food?" Putting a leg over the sill and getting a solid footing on the ledge as he turned to look at Allison, he added, "I'll be nice and make it a choice."

Hearing the scraping at her bathroom door as the rats tried to make their way through, Allison hesitantly stepped towards Raphael. "Just… don't drop me." Grabbing her other hand and pulling her arms to wrap across his chest, Raphael told her, "Just don't let go of me." As she was slowly pulled out the window, Allison squeezed her eyes shut just before she felt the ground disappear from under her feet.

With only one of Raphael's hands over her arm to support her, Allison clutched onto the turtle as securely as she could, leaning her head against his shell to shield from the cold. The sky had gone dark and overcast, and Allison hoped it wouldn't suddenly rain on them. The only place she would be able to go to for shelter would be Robert's apartment, and she didn't want to lead the rats there. Feeling Raphael land, Allison was about to open her eyes when she felt the ground fade away again. _What th-… is he just leaping from building to building or something?_ Praying that ninjas were as good at being unseen as they always were in the movies, Allison continued to hang on to Raphael as he took her through the rooftops.

Feeling one final steep drop as Raphael stopped, Allison opened her eyes and allowed her feet to touch the ground, realizing that they were in the alley located between a hardware store and a dry cleaners about five blocks away from her house. Breathing hard after the unexpected excursion, Allison slowly released Raphael as she asked, "Did we lose them?"

Pulling away from her and heading to the mouth of the alley, Raphael replied, "No. But I just saw how we can." Realizing now that she heard the sound of a motorcycle, Allison momentarily wondered if he intended to steal it from the motorist, but decided this wasn't the case when the bike seemed to stop as Raphael poked his head out of the alley. "Yo bonehead," he called. "Nice 'a ya to drop in." An unfamiliar voice good-naturedly replied, "You think I'm gonna miss out on the chance to bust some furry little heads just 'cuz it's before noon?"

Curious as to who this new person was, Allison began making her way over to them, but stopped when she felt something crawl over her foot. Looking down, she let out a small cry as she saw a rat scamper into the darkness, towards an empty box in the corner. The box shook and, afraid of seeing another score of rats pop out of it, she dashed towards Raphael. He had turned back to look at her when she cried out, and took her arm. Before she even knew what had happened, she was flung towards the unknown motorist, solidly colliding into his chest. "Go with Casey," Raphael told her. "Hurry it up."

Regaining her footing and looking back at Raphael as he turned back towards the alley, Allison asked, "Raphael, what about you?" The stranger identified as Casey already had an arm around her and was pulling her away. "C'mon, babe, he can take care of himself." Allison spun around and glared at the newcomer. She was startled to see that he was not only huge, but his face was covered behind a hockey mask and he had a slew of hockey clubs and other sporting equipment on a golf bag at his back. Knowing it would be very stupid to try and fight against him, she nevertheless told him, "I'm _not_ leaving him behind!"

"Yo kid, get outta here!" Allison turned back to see Raphael deftly climbing to the top of the building via the fire escapes, kicking a few rats off of his feet as he did so. _How did these rats get here so fast?_ "I'm comin', but I'm faster without you." He was right. Allison could see that he was already most of the way up.

"C'mon," demanded Casey as he pulled at her. "Let's get going." Reluctantly, she allowed him to quickly lead her to his motorcycle. Getting on behind him, Allison instinctively looked to the side… and saw something that startled her more than the rats. On the opposite end of the street was… Robert's car.

The tires had been slashed, and it looked as though they had been… gnawed through. _Oh no. Oh God, no. That… that's not possible._ Her analytical mind taking over once again, Allison realized that it was the _only_ possible explanation. Donatello had surely gotten rid of their scents from the surrounding neighborhood, but she hadn't accounted for her scent to rub off on Robert and Rosalind every time she touched them. If the rats had been looking for her and picked up the scent from Robert and the baby…. _No. All they did was stop the car from moving, distinguish Rob's scent, and followed it back to my place. Rob probably freaked out, grabbed Rosalind, and ran off._ There was no reason to suspect that the Rat King had done anything to them, was there?

Allison was so consumed with trying to peer through the tinted windows of the car to make sure it was empty that Casey had to grab her arm as he sped off, or she would have fallen to the ground. "Whatsamatter?" Casey called over the wind as he wrapped her arm around his waist. "You never rode one of these before? Hold on or the rats get a free lunch!" Absently leaning in towards this long-haired motorist, Allison allowed the chilling wind to keep her tears from flooding her eyes. _If anything happened to either of them… my God. I'm going to be sick._

Growing numb, Allison didn't keep track of how long they traveled. She only snapped out of it after the motorcycle jolted to a stop. Raising her head from its resting place of Casey's bag, Allison looked around. The locale looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint where they were. It was clear, by the skyscrapers visible nearby, that they had likely crossed the bridge and were in the city. There were some kind of warehouses all around, and she saw Raphael drop from one of the rooftops a few yards away. He was breathing hard, but continued to walk in a steady pace towards the one building that Casey had stopped by. "Yo Raph," Casey called, "sit down, take a breather. From what the guys tell me, you shouldn't have been runnin' all that."

Alarmed at how she had completely forgotten about Raphael following after them, Allison exclaimed, "Running? Raphael, I don't even know if you should be _walking_, and you were playing Tarzan?" Removing his hockey mask and turning to flash her what was actually a charming grin, Casey remarked, "Huh, takes after Leo, this one, doesn't she?"

Allison ignored him, and Raphael did the same to both of them. He was already at the door of the warehouse and, though Casey's bulk blocked him from view, Allison could tell that he was trying to get inside. A sudden whirring motion sounded as he breathed out something that sounded like, "Success." As the door to the large depot automatically opened, Raphael hurried inside and told Casey, "Call the others and tell 'em to meet me at Central Park, by the pond by the castle."

Confused, Casey asked, "Central Park? You crazy?" From within, Raphael cracked, "You know, you ain't the first person to ask that, so I think I might be slightly mental." Seeming to grow angry, Casey shouted, "You just fuckin' got _shot_, all right?" The door fully opened, Allison could now see that the building housed numerous vehicles. From somewhere unseen, Raphael's voice loudly muttered, "Jeez, Casey Jones, not you too. I'm fine, all right?"

Swiftly dismounting the motorcycle and stepping towards the warehouse, Casey bellowed, "If you were fine, you wouldn't've come here to get your bike, okay? Now, you're gonna take your bike and your chick, and you gonna head over to April's and hang low while me and the guys do our thing." His last few words were swallowed by the roar of a loud engine and, though his back was to her, Allison could tell that Casey's eyes probably widened as he dove to the ground. A red motorbike raced out of the open warehouse door, narrowly missing Casey and the motorcycle on which Allison was straddled. She flinched and turned to look back at him, trying to decipher what his actions were all about.

"Dammit! Damn!" A string of muttered curses followed after, and Allison turned to see Casey had made his way to his feet and was shutting the door of the garage. "What's wrong with that knucklehead," he asked rhetorically. A moment of silence passed before Allison quietly mentioned, "He's right."

Turning sharply to the girl, Casey raised an eyebrow. "Whaddaya mean, 'he's right'? Didja see the bandages on 'im? The two 'a you should be hidin' with April." As she thought the situation over, Allison felt more and more certain about Raphael's intentions. "He knows," she whispered to herself.

Moving closer to her, Casey's confusion resurfaced. "He knows? What's he know?" Receiving no answer from her, Casey raised his voice. "Hey! Why I'm always left in the dark, huh? What's that dimwit know that you think makes him right?" Having accepted Raphael's antisocial behavior for the fact that he simply hadn't had the chance to deal with people very often, Allison grew angry at Casey quickly enough, since he didn't have that excuse. "Our scents are in the air," she told him firmly. "The rats can trail us now. Raphael thinks that leading them somewhere out in the open will get the Rat King to come out for a showdown."

Casey gaped at her in silence for a moment, as though he were trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. Straightening up and scratching his head, he tiredly remarked, "Jeez, what is this, the OK Corral?" He seated himself back on the motorcycle, withdrawing something from his denim jacket as Allison worried over Raphael. Did the turtle have any idea just how vulnerable he was? He must have… so was he really just foolhardy enough to throw himself right into danger? _No… he told Casey to let the others know where he is... Maybe he knows that Splinter is likely to come to his senses when faced with all of them… but is starting off on his own because he wants to lull the Rat King into a false sense of security before the back-up comes. He's playing his own game of chess… even though it might cost him his life._

"Casey! Did you find Master Splinter?" Allison was alarmed to suddenly hear Donatello's voice. At Casey's response, she realized he must have had some kind of walkie-talkie. "No, but I found Raph and his new playmate a few blocks from the Queensboro. We're at the garage, and Raph just grabbed his bike and said to meet him at the pond in Central Park."

She heard the other turtles' voices respond to this. "The pond?" Michelangelo asked. Leonardo seemed to take control of the conversation when he asked in a very severe voice, "What were they doing _outside_ of the apartment?" Casey shrugged as he answered, "I dunno, but I think they got some unexpected company."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and it was during this silence that Allison felt a sudden odd chill. Turning to look over her shoulder, she was dimly aware of Leonardo saying, "We're on our way to Central Park. Take Allison over to April's and then meet us there." Casey agreed and seemed to put his communicator away. Allison quickly put her arms around his waist. She vaguely realized that she could almost hear him smirk as he commented, "Warmin' up to me already, huh?"

"Go," she told him in a wavering voice. Getting ready to leave, he replied, "I'm gettin' there, I'm gettin' there." She repeated the command more strongly, and Casey turned to her, irritated. "Hey, what's the rush-" Looking behind him, he saw what the rush was. Coming up about a third of a mile away from them was a horde of rats so large that it looked like a single giant mass.

"Oh crap," Casey managed to breathe out before putting his hockey mask on and turning around. "Hold on!" Tightening her grip about him, Allison hunched down against his bag as they screeched off. Screaming over the engine and the wind, Allison asked, "Isn't it safer to _not_ wear that thing while driving?"

"You care about safe?" Casey yelled. "Then don't bother me while I'm makin' a smooth getaway." He made a sudden u-turn, causing Allison to yelp. _I was better off with the turtle_, Allison thought as she tried to keep herself from freezing to death while not crushing her shoulder against Casey's sports equipment. She didn't dare watch out for obstacles and so squeezed her eyes shut as Casey "smoothly" jerked left and right. Traffic sounds flooded her ears, along with the occasional shout that could have been caused by someone in response to the mask-wearing motorcyclist or the sudden appearance of groups of rats.

"Shit," she heard Casey call out at length. "The closer I'm getting to the park, the more rats keep showin' up. It's like they're tryin' to slow me down." Venturing to open her eyes, Allison straightened up slightly. "You think that may be the point, genius?" Paying no attention to her sarcasm, Casey continued his reckless driving down the crowded New York City streets. _No way is this going unnoticed. I knew the city was bad, but there's gotta be at least _one_ cop around here._ Whatever the odds of having a policeman in the vicinity were, they seemed to be largely decreased when dealing with a psychopathic-looking guy speeding along on a motorcycle with scores of rats chasing after him. _I wouldn't know whether to call the cops or the ASPCA._

Gradually, Allison came to realize that the occasional bumps they passed over weren't caused by the speed; rather, they were the result of rats getting too close to Casey's wild wheels. _How are these bastards so fast? _She was almost certain that people were screaming about this crazy scene, but the whistle of the wind made it impossible to tell for sure. "Dammit," Casey cried. It was at that moment that she realized that they were slowing down. "Stupid rat guts messin' with my bike."

Not sure whether to panic or vomit, Allison looked behind her once again. The wave of rats was gone, but that only meant that they were no longer chasing after them. Whichever ones weren't ripped apart by Casey's driving could very well be waiting for them in the park. _Or for Raphael._ "I'm guessing you're not too keen on leading these bastards to this April girl," Allison said, "are you?" Trying his best not to lose control of his bike, Casey muttered something that sounded like a sarcastic, "I'm sure she'd love _that_."

They were only a few blocks from the park, and the coast seemed clear. "You can't ride this thing in there!" Allison told him. "The park's got rules against-" Speaking over her, Casey said, "Just _watch_ me!" As he approached the entrance, Allison called out for people to move out of the way, knowing that the park was filled with joggers during the hours in which motor vehicles weren't allowed. "If they can't hear the engine," Casey yelled at her, "then they ain't gonna hear you." Glaring at the back of his head reproachfully as they entered the park, Allison asked, "How many little old ladies have you run over since you stopped using a tricycle?"

They hit another bump, and the bike began to skid. With a gasp, Allison clutched onto Casey even tighter as he struggled to maintain control of the motorcycle, but the high speeds he had been attempting made it even more difficult than usual. He began veering off the track, towards the right. "Casey," she called out warningly as she saw a thick mesh of trees in front of them. "Hold on!" Casey screamed.

They jerked to a stop, the sudden halt wrenching the bike to the right and causing Allison to fall off and even for Casey to stumble. She landed on her right knee and previously uninjured shoulder. Something hard rained down upon her, and she dimly realized that it was a baseball bat and a golf club falling from Casey's bag. With a groan, she raised herself to all fours, shaking her head firmly. "Crazy," Casey muttered. "That never happened before." She mockingly responded, "Wonderful. I'm honored."

His hand came down on her bandaged shoulder and she pulled away from him. "Ouch! That hurts!" Looking up at him, she saw that her words didn't affect him, as he was looking towards the park entrance. Following his gaze, she saw a large group of people clamoring around the entrance, looking curious and concerned. "C'mon," he said quietly as he again tried to pull her up. She stood of her own accord to keep him from pressing on her bruises, which were once again taking their toll on her. "Let's get outta here before someone decides to call the cops."

He turned back to his motorcycle, but looked down and uttered, "What th-?" Allison looked down and yelled, stepping away as she saw two rats chewing at the wheels of the bike. A low growl came from behind Casey's mask as he picked up a golf club from the ground. "How about eatin' _this_?" He swung fiercely, and Allison saw the rat fly towards the trees that encircled the pond.

The bushes nearby shook, and Casey and Allison seemed to realize at the same time that they were surrounded. "C'mon," he said urgently, leaving his motorcycle behind and grabbing Allison's arm, pulling her towards the water. "Pond's this way." He handed her the baseball bat he quickly grabbed from the ground, his club still in hand. "The guys should be here soon. We gotta find Raphael and help him hold down the fort." Taking the makeshift weapon, Allison sped after him, her breath growing tight in her chest once again. _No_, she told herself sternly. _You are _not_ going to pass out again. Don't you even _think_ about it._

Breaking through the clearing of trees, Allison looked around for Raphael. Rain was forthcoming, and so there was no one to be seen. "Raph!" Casey called, not being one for subtlety. "Yo Raph!" Looking at the surroundings, Allison said, "Casey."

"What?"

"…we're in the wrong place."

"No we ain't. This is the pond. Raph said to meet 'im by the pond."

"No," Allison persisted. "This is the Pond. The actual Pond. Raphael said to meet him by the pond _by the castle_. _Turtle_ Pond, not just _the_ Pond." Casey didn't say anything for a moment, then uttered, "Oh." Enraged, Allison hit him in the arm. "Oh? Oh! We're by the southern entrance! Turtle Pond is near the west!" Strangely quiet, Casey said, "Yo, calm down." Trying not to get flustered, Allison forced herself to keep her voice down. "Calm down? Did you tell the others to come here, too? Jesus, we've just left Raphael by himself. Do you know how dangerous this is for him? He's completely alone-"

"And _we_ ain't."

Allison looked up at him to notice that, once again, his eyes were looking past her. Silenced, she slowly turned around. Standing by a tangle of trees as though he were a statue was the Rat King in his long trench coat. At his feet stood dozens of attentive rats. Splinter stood by the water, looking at the two of them blankly.

"Well, well," the dry voice of the Rat King spoke. "Isn't it fitting for a turtle to meet his end at a body of water that shares his namesake?" He was interrupted by Casey, who stood in front of Allison and brandished his golf club expertly. "Hiya there, Rat Boy. Remember me?"

"Yes," came the low reply. He said nothing else for a moment, seeming to contemplate Casey's presence. Opening his arms, Casey asked, "What, no hug hello?" Moaning hopelessly, Allison whispered, "Something tells me that this isn't helping." She grasped the baseball bat tighter when she heard the Rat King utter the all-too recognizable command: "Destroy them."

Allison took a step back as Splinter stepped forward. If he tried the same kick with Casey, she wasn't certain that she'd try to interfere the way she did for Raphael. Another kick like that, and it wouldn't matter whether or not it meant to kill her at all; she would most likely asphyxiate.

Casey lowered his arms, looking solemnly at the mutant that approached him. "Splinter," he told him. "Splinter, it's me. Casey Jones." The rat made no change in his advancement. "Splinter, listen to me," Casey continued, not backing down. "You gotta fight this. You're stronger than this. Don't let some moronic mummy pull a mindfuck on you."

"Try as much as you want, fool," the Rat King said with a mad smile on his face. "He listens only to one." Seeing Splinter gaze at Casey without the slightest hint of recognition when it was clear that the man knew him well, Allison felt a deep surge of loathing. "Or four," she breathed. She saw the Rat King's crazed eyes look at her, and she remembered how terrified she had been of him the night before, even when she had thought he was only another disturbed homeless man. Now that she knew of his manipulative power, she felt nothing but disgust for him.

She stepped up to Casey's side, her bat in hand. "Stay back," he mumbled to her. She shook her head. "Call them," she said thinly. "Let them know we're here." Taking a step back and pulling her with him without taking his eyes off of Splinter, Casey reminded her in a whisper, "What about Raphael?"

"He's already finished," interrupted the Rat King. Both Allison and Casey looked up at him in shock. _H… how can he hear us from over there? _Their expressions only seemed to make him even more pleased, leading Casey to step forward and point his weapon at him accusingly. "You're bluffin', you lyin' sack of-"

Before either of them could even register anything, Splinter had moved in for the attack. Dashing forward as soon as Casey provided an opening, he closed the distance between them, and yanked the golf club out of his hand as he kicked him firmly in the stomach. Casey let out a sound of both pain and surprise as he hit the ground, doubled over.

Allison gasped and stepped backward, holding the bat between her and Splinter as he turned to look at her. "Master Splinter!" Her voice was high-pitched with alarm. "Master Splinter, please! Please, think of your sons. Think of how concerned they are about you." He quickly struck at her overhead with the club, and she managed to block it, more out of instinct than having actually thought about it. She knew what he was doing. If she kept her arms raised in a block, she left her torso open in the same way Casey did. Before he could strike again, Allison sidestepped him and they began to circle one another. _Oh man. Fencing class, don't fail me now._

"Splinter, what do I have to say to get through to you?" He swung again and she managed to elude him once more by leaning back. Desperately trying to remember something from her conversations with the turtles in hopes of finding something that would snap Splinter out of it, she moved backwards, trying to keep as much distance between the two of them as she could until she could think of something suitable. Instead, this only led Splinter to charge at her.

Fear getting the better of her, she stumbled over her own feet and fell in a sitting position on the ground. She raised the bat as a defense, but Splinter effortlessly knocked it out of the way. Part of her wanted to cry out that it wasn't fair, but she managed to word it differently. "Splinter, where's your honor?"

The sensei stopped, his weapon held above his head poised to strike. He narrowed his eyes at the scared girl sitting in the grass, her left arm raised in a futile attempt to protect herself. Thankful for gaining even a few seconds of time, Allison searched for more things to say that may help her, and ultimately him. "I have no weapon and I'm injured. I only want to help you and the turtles. Remember them. Raphael. Leonardo. Donatello. Michelangelo. You taught them everything you know, and now you're using your skill against them. Don't let yourself be manipulated. Confucius… Confucius, he once said, 'One who sets his heart on doing good will ever be free from evil.' Your heart is _good_, Splinter. Don't let it be controlled by someone who would use it for evil."

Splinter stood there, frozen, seeming to waver slightly. "Splinter," the Rat King said angrily. For a moment, a brief moment, the Splinter that Allison had known for only an hour was apparent in his eyes, but he quickly shook his head and brought the golf club down on her arm. She let out a pained shriek, knowing that something had surely fractured. Tears that had threatened to fall this entire time finally flooded to her eyes as she saw him raise the weapon again, and she closed her eyes and looked down, not finding it in her to bring harm to him. _Just let it be over. I want it to be over… whatever that means._

Hearing a sudden commotion, Allison opened her eyes just in time to see Casey tackle Splinter hard enough to throw them both into the nearby pond. Surprised, Allison tried to lean to peer into the water, but she unintentionally leaned on her now-injured arm, causing a bolt of pain to jolt through her. The pain seemed to bring her back to her senses. _Was I really just that fatalistic?_

She looked up to see five rats scurrying over to her, their malicious intent gleaming in their small eyes as a large drop of frigid rain hit her hand. Reaching across with her good arm (which happened to be the one on which her bad hand was attached), Allison grabbed her dropped bat and got to her knees. _I'm _not_ going to die without even knowing what I'd be dying for_, she told herself as she swung the bat at two of the creatures that dove for her. She forced herself onto her feet, stepping on one of the other rats in the process. The other two tried to climb up her jeans, and she reached over and pulled them off of her, flinging them into the water.

She glared up at the Rat King, who was looking at her dispassionately. "You!" Allison called strongly. "You're insane, you're demented, and you're a classic example of a mindless supervillain." Stepping towards him, she threateningly said, "So if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you snuff me out by throwing your little furry henchmen at me, you've got another thing coming, you freak!"

"Freak?" The word seemed to intrigue him, and it only annoyed Allison even more that he hadn't shown any reaction at her anger. The rain began to fall freely in large, heavy drops, somehow fueling Allison's rage. "Freak is just another word," he went on to say. With an exasperated cry, Allison continued to advance towards him as a rumble of thunder sounded. "I'm _through_ with words!"

She swung the bat at him as hard as she could with her single arm, but it apparently wasn't hard enough. It hit his arm, but he didn't even flinch. _Donatello _did_ tell me this guy was human, right?_ The Rat King suddenly lashed his hands out, one of them grabbing the bat and the other one encircling her throat. Allison dropped the bat, attempting to use her hand to loosen his grip if he decided to tighten it and strangle her.

"One _can't_ be through with words," he murmured, his face only inches away from hers. "There are simply too many to exhaust. Some words I hear the most: psycho, weirdo, fiend, beast, creature." With every word, his hand tightened a bit more around Allison's throat, causing her to flinch. "My favorite of the words, however, is monster. It implies so much, doesn't it? But which is the monster: me or you?"

The edges of Allison's vision were blurring, and she found herself incapable of any sort of speech, or else she would have certainly answered the query. "To you, I am indeed a monster. But to these creatures," he cooed, looking down, presumably at the rats, "I am royalty. I am their king. A being capable of speech and thought that far surpasses anything they could have ever imagined. And, unlike others who seem to resemble me in form and substance, I treat them kindly. With respect. With dignity."

"You treat them with impudence."

Surprised by the new voice, the Rat King whirled around, slamming himself directly onto a large fist. His grip on her slackened, and Allison pulled herself away, falling to the ground once more as she gasped for breath. Looking up as her vision cleared, she saw Leonardo throw another punch as he added, "You treat them disgrace." The rats went after him, but they found that they had Michelangelo to deal with instead, who stepped out and used his nunchucks to keep them at bay.

"You were made a victim of your own mind," Leonardo continued, still forcing the Rat King back with his blows. "And so you used your natural kinship with the rats to control them and rid them of their own minds, becoming their single thinker. Becoming their God." Kicking him away, Leonardo unsheathed his swords for battle as he finished, "It makes me sick to think that I still pity you."

The villain almost fell, but landed in a crouch. He stared angrily up at Leonardo, the part of his face visible through the bandages contorted into rage. "Pity? Of course you pity me. I am a monster, and you, you only pretend, pretend to be monsters, all of you. But a monster is created from the inside, and you see that I'm the only one who can rightfully have that name. And if I, a man who the world perceives to have a human shape, am a monster, then what will they think of _you_? No, you would rather they think you monsters, and so you get rid of the real monster."

"You're only confusing yourself," Leonardo told the now-huddled mass squatting on the ground. "You attacked _us_ first, that very first day, because you felt that your status as monster was threatened by _us_. We can't help what makes us different, but you still have something of your old humanity in you, if you would only lose this obsession with monsters and let it out. You can still lead a decent life."

Slowly, the man known as the Rat King stood. Looking at Leonardo almost defiantly, he uttered, "Life? This _is_ my life. Whether or not you think it decent is up to you. But if you think it less than 'decent,' feel free to take it away, if you have the courage." He held his arms open, as though giving Leonardo a clear shot of his torso. "A single blade will do the trick, if you have the bravery."

Allison watched this exchange from the ground. Her aches finally becoming too much for her to move unless she faced a direct threat to her life, she could do little more than cradle her injured arm and watch the conversation between Leonardo and the Rat King, hoping that Michelangelo could deal with the rats on his own.

After a long period of silence, Leonardo steadily told him, "Bravery is not the ability to kill upon command." The Rat King glared at him, as though he had just been cheated somehow. From where she was, Allison noticed his hand slowly slipping into the pocket of his trench coat. Remembering about the pyrotechnics he seemed to enjoy, Allison was about to call out a warning when Michelangelo seemed to have spotted the same thing and alerted Leonardo with a frightened, "Dude!"

Quickly, the Rat King withdrew another strange cylinder from his pocket, but Leonardo's speed was much greater than his. With a single flick of his wrist, one of his swords sliced through the cylinder, rendering it useless. Alarmed, the Rat King attempted a blind, desperate frontal attack, throwing his entire body at Leonardo. He jerked suddenly, and his eyes widened. From her angle, Allison couldn't tell what had just happened. Everything simply seemed to stand still.

Leonardo blankly stated, "Bravery is the ability to kill upon _necessity_." He took a step backwards, pulling back at his sword. Allison saw with horror that it was stained with blood. The bandaged man crumpled to the ground. The rats seemed to quiet down. Everyone was staring at the fallen body. Allison saw the rain gently cleansing Leonardo's blade of the blood, as though washing away the last trace of the madness that wracked this strange man in his life. It seemed to Allison almost as though everyone there was… mourning.

The sudden quiet was broken by a sound from the pond. Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Allison turned to see two figures emerging from the water, slightly obscured by the falling rain. "Sensei!" Leonardo called out, hurrying to his teacher's side. "Master Splinter!" Michelangelo called, following Leonardo. They all gathered by Splinter and Casey, leaving Allison on the ground, staring at the corpse. One by one, the rats turned and disappeared into the park. More than the rain, it was the sight of the despondent rats that chilled her.

Slowly, the others made it back to her. Michelangelo sprinted to her side and helped her to her feet. "Upsy-daisy," he said, keeping an arm around her waist. "I'm thinkin' you could use some food," he added, scarcely looking at her. "Hey, how about we pick up some pizza on the way back?"

"Back where?" Allison asked even before the others could comment on Michelangelo's one-track mind. "Your place is still trashed and my apartment's probably been chewed to bits, and my best friend's-" She stopped, her breath catching in her throat when she remembered about Robert. "Rob!"

"What is it, Allison?" Leonardo asked, helping Splinter to walk. Shivering, Allison looked back at the body of the former Rat King. "I… I don't know. Robert… his car… the tires were chewed through and… and he wasn't there… and…." Allison didn't realize that she was crying until Michelangelo embraced her reassuringly. "Hey, calm down, bud. I don't get all of what you're saying, but if you're saying what I think you're saying, then don't worry. I'm sure that if this Rob dude got his tires eaten by a bunch of rats, he up and split."

Casey crouched by the Rat King's body and rolled him onto his back. Looking down at him, Leonardo asked him what he was doing. Unbuttoning the trench coat, Casey responded, "Just checkin' to make sure he's really dead. Don't wanna think it's over when he might just be playin' possum." He began unwrapping the scarf from the Rat King's throat to check for a pulse, but stopped when he heard a loud, sharp gasp from Allison. Looking up, he saw her pull away from Michelangelo and advance towards the body. "What?"

Slowly kneeling besides Casey, Allison gently took hold of the scarf wrapped about the dead man's neck and looked it over carefully. At length, she whispered, "I gave Rob this scarf for his birthday last year. He told me that he always kept it on him, even in the summertime, because I gave it to him the day he found out he was going to be a father." Feeling numb, Allison clumsily began removing the scarf from the Rat King. Casey helped her silently as she began to get more frustrated. By the time she finally had it all wrapped in her hands, she was sobbing quietly.

After a while, she felt a light touch at her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Splinter looking down at her. He appeared tired, old, and so much grayer than he had the night before, but he still had a compassionate attitude about him. "I understand the pain you must feel, child, both physically and emotionally. Crying in the rain, however, will solve nothing, and if the law enforcement finds us, it will solve even less. Come, we will take you where you last saw your friend's car, and perhaps we may find some clues that will lead us to his whereabouts."

"That," Michelangelo chimed in, "and there's always the chance that he just went splitsville, like I said. The Rat King coulda just thought it was gonna be cold, so he swiped the scarf. He'll be happy to get it back." Allison allowed Casey to help her up even as Michelangelo's false optimism made her spirits sink. She dimly heard Casey ask about Raphael and was informed by Leonardo that he and Donatello were waiting in a van on the West End. Clutching the damp scarf to her chest as the rain began beating down against the earth with renewed force, Allison looked to the sky and, for the first time in years, said an earnest prayer.

_Please God… let Rob and Ros be okay. _


	8. Chapter 8

"Sensei!"

Upon opening the van door, Donatello's face lit up as he moved towards his master. Splinter put a hand up to stop him, however. "The welcomes can wait until later, Donatello. For now, I suggest you look over Miss Grayson's injuries before they overcome her senses." Nodding, Donatello looked at Allison as he helped her into the back of the van, his relief at having Splinter back clearly evident on his face.

Leading her into the back as the others began piling into the van, Donatello asked, "What's wrong?" Raphael was reclining back on a chair, covered in a heavy blanket. He seemed very tired and not quite all there, but he still managed to comment, "What? Every time we meet again you get a new injury or somethin'?"

Seeing the turtle looking even more wounded than he had been before, Allison momentarily forgot about her concerns and started towards him. "Raphael, are you-?" The question died on her lips as the van jerkily started up. She lost her balance and would have fallen on top of Raphael, had he not sat up quickly and held her up by her waist. From the front, Michelangelo called, "Sorry 'bout that."

In the strange embrace, Allison looked up at Raphael. She was so close to his face that she could make out thin scratches across his cheeks, presumably from the rats. Though the sudden movement seemed to have brought him some kind of discomfort, he seemed as though he were actually concerned about _her_. As Donatello gently helped her to her feet and led her to another chair, Raphael leaned back. "Klutz," he murmured.

"What happened?" Donatello repeated, bringing Allison back to the current situation. "Huh? Oh… my arm…." She gingerly held up her left arm as Donatello crouched in front of her. "I was hit… by a golf club." Confused, Raphael broke in. "Golf club? Casey ain't been beatin' up on ya, has he? You ain't _that_ annoying." Becoming concerned with the pain that bolted up her arm as Donatello gently examined it, Allison softly replied, "No. It was Splinter."

Donatello looked up at her, and she could feel Raphael do the same. "Yes," came Splinter's voice from the front. The three of them turned to see him standing directly behind the front seats, looking at them softly. "I must apologize for what I did. I would have hoped that my will had been stronger than that."

"No," Allison told him, trying to reach out to him from where she was. "You _did_ hear me, part of the way, at least. If it had been Donatello or Leonardo there instead of me, you would have come to your senses right away." With a small smile, he appreciatively took her hand as Donatello began searching for supplies to fix her arm. "Somehow, I fear you give me far too much credit."

His eyes turned to look at Raphael. "What has happened to you?" Raphael rolled his eyes, obviously not wanting to get into it. Still engrossed in his search, Donatello responded, "He went off by himself, and the rats picked up his scent and ambushed him by the castle. Since we didn't know which pond Casey was talking about when he called us, I searched over there with the van while Leo and Mikey went elsewhere to look for you guys, and I managed to pull him in before they ate him alive." He glanced back at his wounded brother, who didn't seem appreciative of having his injuries announced for all to hear. "I've disinfected most of the bites and scratches, but this has only thrown in a huge setback in his healing process."

Raphael seemed to scoff at this idea, but gave his cynicism no voice. Standing, Donatello handed Splinter a blanket from a bundle he had gotten out. "Here you go, Sensei. You should sit down and dry off. You must be freezing." When Splinter accepted the blanket with thanks, Donatello turned to Allison with another blanket, using it to gently dry her hair. "You too. With all of the different things your immune system already has to deal with, we don't need you to get sick." Allison accepted the blanket from him, using it to dry her face with her good arm.

"So bud," Michelangelo called from behind the wheel. "Where was it that you saw your friend's car? We'll drive by and scope it out." Suddenly remembering about Robert, Allison froze and looked down at the damp scarf she still held in her other hand. "Rob," she whispered, more to herself. Louder, she said, "Uh… It was on Lorimer… it was across the street from a place called Gary's Hardware and another one called Happy Cat Cleaners."

"Gotcha," Michelangelo replied. "We'll be there in no time." As Donatello knelt down before her once again, she heard Leonardo say that he was going to call April. "Hmm," Donatello mused, staring at her arm. "Definite bruising, but since you don't seem to have too much of a problem moving your wrist or anything, it's definitely not broken, which is another miracle. Maybe Sensei had more control over himself than he imagined."

Allison looked at Splinter, who had contented himself to sit on the floor of the van. "Perhaps," he responded quietly. "That only poses fewer excuses for my hostilities towards her since last night. Also for the ones made towards _you_, Raphael." Raphael looked up at the mention of his name, but mumbled something unintelligible in response as he dropped his head against his shoulder. "He's pretty drugged up," Donatello explained quietly, fishing through a large first-aid kit. "Between a bullet tearing into his chest yesterday and being attacked by thousands of gnashing teeth and claws, he's definitely sorer than he lets on, so I took it upon myself to give him a very small dose of morphine."

Removing a bottle from his kit, Donatello added, "In fact, you could probably use some medication, too, Allison." He shook out three small tablets into his hand and offered them to her. "Here, take these while I work on your wounds." Allowing the pills to drop into her hand, Allison looked at them suspiciously. "Morphine? Am I that bad?" Preparing a cold compress, Donatello stated, "Well, you technically _are_ that bad, since there's a good chance of there being some bone fractures that I don't know about yet. I mean, you basically got hit by a metal stick. But no, it's not morphine. I can't exactly get my hands on that too often, so I rarely use it. This is just regular ibuprofen, for the bruising and general aches."

"Yo Don," Casey called from the back seat, looking back towards them. "If it makes a difference, I saw her get hit. It was with the flat side of a driver, so chances are good that nothin's broken. If it were a putter, though, her arm woulda ripped apart like a piñata at a kids' party." Allison shuddered at the thought, and Donatello gently put the cold compress to her arm. "Thanks, Case," he remarked sarcastically. "I'm sure we all needed that visual."

Leonardo put away his communicator and announced, "I just talked to April. She said that we can stay in her apartment until we get this stuff sorted out. Casey, you'll take Allison in through the shop, and April will lead her up and get her some dry clothes. We'll come in through the back." Casey responded, "Right." Allison stayed silent, still pondering the fates of Robert and Rosalind.

After some time in which Donatello eventually removed the cold from Allison's arm and began working on a makeshift splint, the van finally came to a stop. "Chewed up, deserted car," Michelangelo commented. "Looks like the right place." Looking up, Allison saw that they were double parked by Robert's car and she suddenly stood up. Donatello put an arm around her waist and pulled her back down. "Stay here," he said, alarmed. "I need to get your arm bandaged just in case something _is_ wrong."

"But Rob-" Allison tried to interject, but was interrupted by Splinter. Standing, he calmly told her, "Stay where you are. Though the rain may very well have washed away their scents, I shall go and see if there is anything that may point us in the right direction." Casey jumped out of the van, and opened the way for Splinter to follow him. Wrapping his blanket over himself like a cloak to protect him from both the rain and from being seen, Splinter made his way over to the car.

Allison fidgeted, trying to watch them as they approached the vehicle. "Allison," Donatello told her firmly. "Stay _still_. Please, I need to get this done for your own good, okay?" Leonardo turned in his seat and looked at the worried girl. "He's right, Allison. Just sit back and calm down. If there's any way to track them from what's here, Sensei will find it and we'll follow up on the leads immediately. I promise." Leonardo's words got her to stop shifting, but they did not manage to soothe her worry. As Donatello used some sort of tool as a temporary splint and began bandaging it against her arm, Allison still attempted to crane her neck to look out the windshield at Casey and Splinter.

They were circling the vehicle, trying their best to look casual. There was one person on the other end of the street, speaking on a cell phone. Casey wandered in front of Splinter to shield him from view as the rat put his face against the glass, trying to look through the tinted windows. He seemed to peer about before looking towards the backseat, which was blocked off from Allison because of the angle in which she was sitting. However, she tensed up as Splinter suddenly pulled at Casey, pointing his attention to something he saw. Casey looked in. Surprised, he and Splinter seemed to begin a hurried conversation. _What is it?_ Allison wondered, beginning to grow sick from her worry. _What do they see?_

Casey looked behind him, and it seemed that he noted that the person with the cell phone had walked away. He tried the doors of the car, but they were locked. Frustrated, he looked round once more, and removed a cricket bat from the bag he still kept at his back. Moving Splinter out of the way, he pulled the bat back and swung directly at the driver's side window, shattering it.

Shocked, Allison let out a cry and stood up. "What's he doing?" Donatello tried to pull her back. "Allison!" She ignored him and frantically went for the door. Donatello stood and grabbed her from behind. "Allison, calm down!" She tried to fight him off, pulling the door open but not escaping the turtle's grip. "Calm down? He just smashed Rob's car! What's he doing?"

With a sharp tug, Donatello pulled Allison back, his shell crashing into the side of the van. Leonardo turned in his seat and was reaching out for Allison, trying to soothe her. "Calm down, Allison. I'm sure there's a reason for it-" Angry, confused, and horrified, Allison began screaming incoherently about the lack of reason in the entire situation. Michelangelo tried to talk over her to tell her that Splinter wouldn't have let Casey do that if there wasn't a good intention behind it. Soon, the entire van was engulfed with yelling, chaotic voices.

The activity in the vehicle ceased when Casey stepped into the van, followed slowly by Splinter. Allison looked at Casey, breathing hard and leaning against Donatello after her struggle. She noticed that Casey had something else slung over his shoulder, and realized that it was Rosalind's pink baby bag. "Oh God," she breathed, suddenly imagining the worst.

Her eyes drifted over to Splinter. He was completely covered by the blanket and seemed to be hugging himself. His eyes met hers, and he slowly straightened up. A soft sound was heard, and Allison looked down at his arms. From the folds of the blanket, a small hand could be seen batting the air. As he stepped closer to Allison, Splinter's blanket fell away and revealed Rosalind cradled against his chest.

"Oh God," she sobbed again, stepping away from Donatello and quickly attempting to take the baby from Splinter with her good arm. Rosalind looked uncomfortable and it was clear that many tears had dried against her cheeks, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Upon seeing the familiar face, Rosalind began crying again and reached her arms towards Allison's neck. Both of the girls weeping, Allison held Rosalind tightly and moved away from the others. Murmuring soft words to the child clutching onto her, Allison slowly sank to her knees and felt both relief and uneasiness flood her veins. Though the baby was all right, her mind could not help but concoct what sort of horrible scenarios would have caused her to be locked alone in the car, her father missing.

After an unknown block of time, she felt someone gently touch her half-bandaged arm. Looking to her side, she saw that Donatello had settled on the floor besides her and was continuing his work on her injury. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall, realizing that Rosalind had fallen silent. She felt Donatello's strange hand on her face, wiping it free of the tears. "The baby's asleep," he whispered quietly. "And I think you should follow suit once we get to April's."

Allison shook her head. "No," she moaned. "No, no, I can't sleep. Not until I find Robert." Donatello gently told her, "Allison, you need to rest. _She_ needs you to rest." Opening her eyes, Allison peered down at the baby sleeping against her chest. "Until we find her father, she needs you to watch over her." She thought about it for a moment before nodding dejectedly.

Someone draped a blanket over her shoulders, and she looked behind her to see Splinter step away. "Keep the infant dry," he cautioned. "I doubt we have the means to care for one so small if she were to fall ill." Not bothering to tell him that Rosalind was already sick and that was the reason they were in their current mess in the first place, Allison carefully wrapped the blanket around the baby.

After some time, Donatello finished with her arm and turned back to his first aid kit. Allison moved to lean back against the rear of the van. It wasn't until she was facing the front that she realized that they were driving again. Splinter had sat down in the chair Allison had left, and seemed to be deep in thought. Her eyes went to Raphael, and she was surprised to see that, though he seemed to have dozed off, he was facing her. His chair had been facing the opposite direction when she was sitting in what was now Splinter's seat, but he had apparently turned to glance back at her at some point. Wrapped up in the blanket and breathing slightly irregularly, she marveled at how young he seemed. He wasn't all too different from the child she held in her arm….

"Here." Allison slowly looked at Donatello. He was crouched down in front of her once more, his palm extended with medication. It was a different pill, however, causing Allison to grow suspicious. "What is it?" He seemed to consider the question before asking, "How much do you know about medicine?"

"Not very much."

"…it's zolpidem. It will calm you down."

"I _am_ calm."

"Allison," Donatello said, almost warningly, "please stop being difficult." They looked at one another for a moment before Allison asked, "It's a sleeping pill, isn't it?" Blinking at her, Donatello responded, "I thought you didn't know much about medicine?" Allison replied, "I don't. But I can be logical." She turned away from him, bringing Rosalind closer to her and gingerly leaning her arm against her leg. "If you were logical," Donatello told her levelly, "you would listen to me and take this. Come on, Allison, you'll feel better after you get some sleep and elevate your arm for a few hours. Trust me, okay?"

Allison turned back to him. His eyes told her that he was being sincere. Though she was always wary of medication, she looked down at the capsule being offered, then back up at Raphael. Even someone as hotheaded as him had allowed himself to be drugged and go to sleep and escape into dreams for a little while; she should be allowed the same.

She slowly reached over and took the pill. Looking down at it, she asked in a soft voice, "If I take this, who will watch over Rosalind? I can't just leave her by herself." Splinter spoke up from his seat. "Do not fear. We are not as unfamiliar with young ones as you may think." His consolation did little to help when Donatello looked back at him, his expression exhibiting the fact that they were probably even _more_ unfamiliar with "young ones" than Allison had thought. The turtle quickly looked back at Allison, giving her a small smile. "Right," he told her. "I think we can handle it. And if all else fails, we've got April."

Still not wholly willing to entrust Rosalind to the care of four turtles, a rat, a mask-wearing psychopath, and an unknown woman, Allison lowered her eyes to look at the tablet once more. With a heavy sigh, she put it in her mouth and difficultly swallowed it. When she looked back up at Donatello, his smile had turned into one of gratitude. "I'm sorry for making you do that," he said gently. "It'll prove to be easier. You'll see." She nodded, unconvinced.

The van suddenly stopped. "This our stop," Casey stated, exiting the van. Being mindful of her various injuries, Donatello slowly helped Allison up to her feet, being sure to cover Rosalind's head with the blanket. "Go with Casey," he told her. "We'll meet you in a few minutes." Without a word, Allison stepped to the open door and allowed Casey to help her out as he grabbed the baby bag he had set down in the back of the van.

The rain had turned into a drizzle, but Casey nevertheless put an arm around Allison and hunched over her, walking quickly. "Man," he commented. "Between your hand and your arm, you're on your way to becomin' a regular mummy." Getting no response from Allison, Casey continued on without another remark.

At the corner of the block, they entered a small antique shop. The sudden warmth of the store made Allison realize just how cold she was. It was a rainy autumn day, and she was wearing a t-shirt. Shivering, she hoped that Rosalind was feeling better than she was. "Casey!" Allison looked up to see a young red-haired woman approach them from behind the counter. "Is this the girl?"

Casey nodded. "Yup." Handing off the bag to the new person, he added, "Her name's Allison, I think. Right?" Allison nodded as the woman gave Casey a wry look. "Nice going, Casey." Looking back at Allison, she warmly said, "I'm April. Come with me; I'll take you to my apartment and get you into some dry clothes before the guys get here." Softly taking hold of Allison's frigid arm, she began leading her away as she said, "Casey, mind the shop." Casey made a confused, surprised sound that Allison might have found amusing, had it not been for the fact that the zolpidem Donatello had given her seemed to already be working.

Relying on April's guiding hand, Allison found it a difficult task to keep her eyes open, and so shut them as they began to slowly ascend a flight of stairs. "You must be really shaken up," April said quietly. "That baby… Leo didn't mention her. Is she… is she yours?" Seeing Allison drowsily shake her head, April stated, "Looks like I'll be fishing out a pair of pajamas for you."

They reached the top and Allison opened her eyes to see April unlocking a door. The redhead led her in, and Allison found herself being escorted towards a small, neat bedroom. "First," April declared, putting the baby bag down, "put the baby on the bed. If she needs to be changed or anything, I'll work on that while you get dressed." Forgetting about her previous qualms about entrusting Rosalind to strangers, Allison obeyed and set the still-sleeping baby on the queen-sized bed.

Leaning her hands on either side of Rosalind, Allison shook her head firmly, determined to stay awake a little longer. She found herself becoming slightly angry at Donatello for giving her a medication that would put her out so quickly, and was glad to see that the anger actually seemed to help give her enough focus to stave off the effects for a bit.

"Here you go." Allison managed to pull herself up to accept the t-shirt and pajama pants that April offered her. "The bathroom's out the door, to the left, if you need it. Does she need to be changed?" Allison cleared her throat and managed to respond, "I think so. She's probably hungry, too." April nodded and began looking through the damp baby bag. "Go ahead and get changed. I'll take care of her." With a sound of agreement and appreciation, Allison stumbled out into the bathroom.

She contemplated splashing cold water on her face, but figured that it would be a moot point, considering her current sogginess. Glancing into the mirror, Allison almost cringed. Her lower lip had a scab, though the bruising on her cheek seemed to somehow be going down. Her hair was plastered to her head and yet still in disarray. Slowly unbuttoning her baseball shirt, she was relieved to see that the bruise on her chest hadn't worsened, and she began to realize that she hadn't had any real problems breathing recently. Putting Robert's scarf down on the sink, she peeled the soaked shirt off of her and laid it on the scarf, then undid the bandages about her shoulder. Compared to everything else she had sustained, the bruises there were mild. Her actions growing slower as she felt the medicine begin to take effect, Allison somehow managed to change her clothes while stumbling over only once.

Leaving the bathroom, Allison heard voices elsewhere in the apartment. Finding the living room, Allison saw April sitting on the sofa, feeding Rosalind her formula as Michelangelo sat next to her, watching as though fascinated. Leonardo was standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. Seeing Allison, Leonardo stepped towards her. "Allison, are you all right?" Allison didn't know how to respond for a moment, then managed a weak, "Yes." Michelangelo jokingly exclaimed, "She walks! She talks!"

Leonardo walked to Allison and sat her down in an easy chair. "Listen, Allison, Donny and I were talking, and we just realized something; does Robert have a cellular phone?" Trying to stay focused on what was being said, Allison managed to reply that he does. She was surprised to hear Donatello's voice, not having seen him leaning against the doorframe to April's room. "Have you got his number?"

Allison turned to look at the other turtle. "His number? Donatello, he ignores his phone under _normal_ circumstances; I don't expect him to pick it up now." Donatello shook his head as he entered the room. "He won't have to." He held up what looked like an advanced cellular phone. "If his phone is turned _on_, then dialing the number through my turtlecom should be enough to track down the location of the phone. Master Splinter didn't see a phone in the car, so it might be safe to assume that wherever his phone is, he would be."

Not quite catching all of that because of her sleepiness, Allison raised an eyebrow. "Right," she mumbled. "I guess." Realizing that the zolpidem was beginning to affect her, Donatello quickly made his way to her and sat on the arm of the chair she was sitting in. "Hey, give us the number," he pleaded softly. "Then you can go off and get some sleep while we check up on him."

"I should go, too," Allison wearily began. She was cut off by a brash voice from another room. "Quit your whinin' will ya?" She looked towards what looked like the kitchen and saw Raphael entering the living room with glass of water in his hand. "You know what we're gonna say, and it looks like you're liable to pass out in about two seconds. So quit bein' a brat and give Donny the number."

Allison's eyes went over Raphael's body. Even through her now-blurred vision, she saw that the bites and scratches were worse than she had thought. The majority of them were on his legs, but they were practically invisible compared to the ones on his chest. He was covered in a few bandages here and there, but Donatello must have decided that he would be bandaging all day if he attempted to get them all covered. She wondered exactly how many rats had been on him, and how hard Donatello must have had to fight to pull his brother out of there. "Hey," Raphael suddenly barked. "What's the matter, you gone deaf? Give 'im the number!"

"Raphael," warned Splinter, emerging from the kitchen. "There is no need to yell. You will only disturb both her and the child in April's arms." Raphael looked down, almost as though he recognized the wrong in his actions, and Allison slowly turned back to Donatello. In a low voice, she gave him Robert's number and watched him punch it into the strange device.

A series of beeping sounds came from the gadget, until eventually a steady _blip_ went off. "Got it," Donatello said triumphantly. "Looks like the signal's coming in by Broadway. Near the Avenue of the Americas, I think."

"Avenue of the Americas?" Allison puzzled. "By Miramax Studios, maybe?" Standing up, Donatello responded, "It's a possibility." He looked up at Leonardo and Michelangelo. "Come on. Let's check it out." As his brothers grouped together, Raphael said, "I shouldn't even _comment_ on how you're pretendin' I don't exist, huh?" Flashing him a grin, Michelangelo said, "Technically speaking, dude, for this mission, you _don't_."

"Think of it this way," Donatello told him. "Your job is to make sure Allison doesn't try to follow us or do anything else stupid, hotheaded,... anything _you_ would do." Allison stood and tried to object, but she became light-headed and fell back into her seat. "Woo, boy," Raphael muttered. "Gimme more morphine; I'll need it to block the pain 'a _this_ misadventure."

Michelangelo waved goodbye to Rosalind, who was currently being gently burped by April. "Bye bye! See ya, mini-bud. We're gonna go bring back Da-da. You be a good girl for Auntie April until Uncle Mikey brings back Da-da, got it?" With a glare, Raphael remarked, "Ya know, if I wasn't partly stoned right now, I'd smack you."

"Do be careful, my sons," Splinter requested as the three turtles headed for the door. "Broadway is not exactly the most idle area of this city at two in the afternoon." Michelangelo flashed him a thumbs up. "No problemo, Splinter. One with the shadows, and all that jazz."

"Let's go get Casey," Leonardo said, already heading out. April stood up. "I need to get back to the shop, if Casey's going to leave." She looked down at the baby in her arms, who seemed somewhat peaceful now. "Uh… should I…?" Splinter stepped forward. "Here. Allow me. You should not be stopped from carrying on with your day."

April handed Rosalind over to Splinter, and Allison found it odd that she didn't even have the strength to worry about Splinter's claws inadvertently hurting the baby. April looked back at Allison. "Feel free to use my bed. I've been meaning to go grocery shopping, but you're welcome to whatever you find in the kitchen. I'll try to close shop early and run to the store a few blocks away to pick up some more formula and diapers." As April turned away to follow after Michelangelo, Allison weakly called, "Thank you, April." The redhead turned around and flashed her a smile before leaving. "And don't try to fight the zolpidem," Donatello warned. "That tends to have some bad side effects. Just let it take its course. We should be back by the time it wears off." He closed the door behind him, leaving Allison, Raphael, Splinter, and Rosalind alone.

"Splinter," Allison said groggily as she slowly stood up. "Are you sure you've handled babies before?" Splinter looked up at her and responded, "Yes, of course. It _has_ been a few years, but I doubt children in this stage have changed very much. Would you prefer I entrust her to Raphael?"

Raphael took a step back. "Oh no. Not me. I don't play that 'Uncle Raph' game with the kids. I should be out doin' a search for the brat's dad so she can go home quick." Annoyed, Allison turned and tried to hit Raphael's arm, but missed and almost stumbled once again. Already used to her losing her balance, Raphael caught her easily. "Then perhaps," Splinter suggested, "you would better occupy yourself with caring for Miss Grayson."

Raphael blinked at Splinter's words as the sensei turned to sit on the sofa. "What? I don't play nurse, you know that." Woozily, Allison mumbled, "'Course not. You're too busy having _other_ people play nurse for _you_." She could feel his resentful eyes on her, but did nothing about it. "Go," she heard Splinter's soft voice say. "Take her to April's room and be sure her arm is elevated." Though he was already grudgingly taking her back to the bedroom, Raphael asked, "And how the heck am I supposed to elevate her arm?" Stepping into April's room, Allison heard Splinter dryly reply, "Use your innovation."

Raphael silently led Allison to the bed, throwing back the covers as he nudged her into the bed. "She's nice," she murmured softly. Raphael asked, "Who is?" Crawling into the bed, Allison replied, "April." Raphael seemed to think about this for a moment before stating, "Eh, she's got her moments."

Looking at the pillows, Allison remarked, "I'm going to get her pillows wet with my hair." She could almost hear Raphael roll his eyes as he said, "Yeah, I'm sure she'll want ya to reimburse her for the damages." He surprised her by grabbing her uninjured arm and pulling her into a laying position. "Now go to sleep, will ya?"

She sat back up even as Raphael turned his back on her. "Raphael!" The turtle stopped, not looking at her. "What?" There was a long moment in which Allison simply couldn't form the words. Annoyed, he turned back to look at her and repeated his question. Finally, she softly managed, "What do you think happened to Rob?"

A bit of Raphael's anger seemed to dissipate, though he still looked away from her. "I dunno. I'm guessin' he ran off after he spilled the beans on where we were." Angry at the implication, Allison growled, "He _didn't_ 'spill the beans!' The rats smelled me on him, that's all! And he wouldn't just run away, leaving Rosalind alone in his car."

Raphael glared up at her tiredly. "Hey, what do ya want me to say, huh? Give ya some optimistic bullshit on how he's probably okay and everything's all right? Tell ya to just close your eyes, relax, and when you wake up, he'll be standing right there in front of you? Or better yet, that this would have all been a dream? I don't play like that, okay? I ain't Donny. I ain't Leo. And I sure as hell ain't Mikey. I'm a realist, and if you don't like that, stop askin' me stupid questions, okay?"

Allison was struck dumb at the unexpectedly outburst, despite how lackluster it seemed to sound. Raphael clearly had not been trying to cut her with his words; he was only being truthful. Somehow, that hurt her even more. Looking down, she felt tears fall from her eyes. Her mind was muddied because of the drug and the confusion of all of the past events. Though Donatello had warned her against it, Allison felt the urge to resist the medication, to find some way to flush it out of her system so that she could run out and just _do_ something. She didn't like this. She didn't have the control that she had always had, even through the darker stages of her life. She hated feeling so helpless and alone and scared. She hated-

She turned her head when she felt someone sit to her right on the bed. Wiping her tears away, she saw Raphael settling besides her. "Lie down," he told her calmly. He reached over and carefully took hold of her injured left arm with his right hand, and Allison found herself following his orders without questioning them for the first time since she had met him. As she slowly lay back, Raphael gradually pulled her arm towards him, causing her to turn towards him as her arm was gingerly draped across his stomach in an embrace.

Her face now less than an inch from Raphael's shoulder, Allison asked, "What are you doing?" His hand positioned lightly on her arm, Raphael whispered, "Elevating your arm. What does it look like I'm doing?" After a moment, Allison responded, "It looks like you're being nice."

Raphael let out a quietly sarcastic laugh. "That's just the drugs talkin'." Her vision going hazy once again, Allison rested her head against Raphael's shoulder. "I think you're right," she mumbled. Seeming to grow tired himself, Raphael answered, "Of course I'm right. Now please go to sleep."

"… that's funny."

"What is?"

"You said 'please.'"

"…drugs."

"Right," Allison said with a soft yawn. "Drugs." She shifted against him to get more comfortable, and her right hand inadvertently found his left. She unconsciously slipped her hand into his and was somewhat amazed that he took a hold of it, mindful of the bandages over it. After a moment, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Thank you." Without asking for what, Raphael surprised Allison by replying, "You're welcome."

Those quiet words followed Allison as she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Allison was suddenly awoken from her drug-induced sleep by a bolt of pain.

Her eyes flying open, she cried out into the dark room. Her thoughts ran wild in her head as she tried to adjust her vision, trying to figure out what had happened. She tried to sit up, but found that, even with the adrenaline from the pain, she just didn't have the energy. Blinking, Allison attempted desperately to get her bearings straight.

Slowly, her eyes began to get used to the darkness and she became aware of her body. Her injured left arm was lying limply against her leg. There was a shivering shadow sitting upright besides her, and she managed to make out that this was Raphael. Blinking away the tears from the pain, Allison slowly came to realize that he must have sat up suddenly and her arm was flung to the side, startling her out of her slumber.

"Sorry," he suddenly muttered, seeming to just realize what he had done. His back was still to her, and he appeared to be breathing hard. "Sorry. I… damn." He scrambled out of the bed, stuttering the same words over and over again. Allison raised her right hand towards him as he left the bed. "Raphael! ... ow!"

She put her hand down and peered at it in the darkness. The hand was suddenly very warm, and she realized that it must have been pressed down on at some point. "Ow?" Raphael repeated. "What, 'ow?'" A bedside lamp came on, forcing Allison to squint in the sudden light. "Damn," Raphael breathed again. Her eyes adjusting once again, she saw what caused Raphael concern. The bandages around her hand were completely bloodied.

Raphael noisily stumbled out of the room. When he opened the door, the light from the living room flooded in, and Allison shielded her eyes from the glare. Her left arm felt absolutely dead, and she found herself wishing that Donatello had given her a higher dosage of the zolpidem so that she wouldn't be awake through this.

From the living room, Splinter's voice could be heard. "Raphael, what is it?" There was silence for a long time, and she could see Raphael's immobile shadow standing by the doorway. At length, a quiet, almost timid voice responded, "I… I hurt her. I… it was an accident, but… ugh." Raphael's voice began turning back to what Allison was used to as he asked where Donatello had put the first-aid kit.

Unable to keep her head up, Allison dropped her head to the pillow, holding her hand against her chest as she let out a soft groan. She felt ill, and hoped that it was only one of the side effects of the medication that Donatello had mentioned. Overcoming her nausea, she managed to look up as a small shadow blocked some of the light from the doorway. Because the light was shining behind him, Allison could only see Splinter's inky silhouette as he gazed at her. From what she could see, it looked like he was still holding onto Rosalind. Allison wanted to hold her, wanted to snuggle against her the way she sometimes did when she would babysit her overnight and watch cartoons with her all morning. But she knew that Splinter wouldn't hand the girl over to someone who was mostly drugged and bleeding profusely.

He moved out of the way as another figure brushed past him. "Take good care of her, Raphael." Raphael stopped at the doorway and looked back at his sensei, then said, "Ain't that what you told me to do in the first place?" As the turtle moved into the room, Splinter quietly closed the door, leaving the two of them in near darkness. "She needs her rest," he advised just as the door closed shut.

Raphael sat back down on the bed, averting Allison's eyes and setting the first-aid kit on the nightstand. "Gimme," he said blandly as he extended one hand for hers while he began rummaging through the box for what he needed. Allison was too tired to argue, but also too drained to oblige. Raphael looked down at her hand and pulled it away from her chest as gently as he could, given his newfound agitation. "Gotta love Donny and his drugs," he muttered.

Allison found herself fading in and out of consciousness as Raphael worked on her hand in the same way he had done the night before. As drugged as she was, she couldn't simply disregard that something seemed to have startled Raphael so much that he sat bolt upright in bed. He didn't seem like the type who did that very often.

After a long time, she uttered, "Raphael?" Not looking up at her, Raphael returned her mumbled call with, "Yeah?" Alarmed by how much energy she needed to gather just to speak, Allison asked, "What… made you… wake up? What… was wrong?" Raphael didn't answer, and she was faintly aware that he had ceased his movements. After an indeterminable amount of time, he finally responded. "Nuthin'. I'm gonna be done with your hand soon. Go to sleep."

"Tell… me."

"_Nuthin'_," Raphael insisted, quickly annoyed. "Just… it was nuthin'. A dream, that's all." Allison asked if it was a nightmare, and his voice softened slightly. "It wasn't exactly what you'd call pleasant." She requested that he recount it, and he refused. "Just go to sleep. I'm gonna go watch some TV."

"The last time… you… said that,… my apartment… was eaten by rats." Raphael placed her newly-bandaged hand back on her chest and said, "Well, unless Master Splinter's got a weird case of the munchies, you don't gotta worry about that now." Allison mumbled something incoherent and winced as she tried to shift her arm and realized that she couldn't. Seeing her shoulder tense at the attempt, Raphael realized that her arm needed to be propped up again. "Damn," he whispered, gently taking hold of her arm and slowly raising it. "I should look for something to keep your arm up."

In her semi-conscious state, Allison found herself rolling over and trying to droop her arm over Raphael. "Why not… the way before?" As her arm fell across his lap, it seemed that he tensed up. "I can't stay here with you all afternoon." With a small smile, Allison asked, "What else do… you have to do?" Sighing, Raphael laid back, keeping his hand over Allison's arm. "Fine. But as soon as you get to sleep, I'm goin'."

"Liar," Allison mumbled as she burrowed beside him in their original position. Raphael made a protesting sound, but said nothing as Allison's breathing gradually slowed as she got closer to sleep. Suddenly, she said, "Raphael?" He asked what she wanted, and she answered, "Tell me."

"Tell ya what?"

"Your nightmare."

"Aw, jeez!"

"Please," she pleaded. "I want to know. You… were shaking." There was a moment of silence before Raphael asked, "I was?" Allison nodded against his shoulder. When he said nothing else, she added, "I don't like seeing you… that way. …I like you now. A jerk… but a nice one." Seeming to be thankful for the fuel to throw something back at her, Raphael told her, "I never asked for ya to like me, did I?" Her voice a low murmur now, she replied, "No. But I do."

There was another long period of quiet as Raphael seemed to take this into consideration. Finally, he said, "Then you either got problems, or those drugs you took are hallucinogenic." Allison laughed softly against his shoulder and responded, "Maybe." She paused before reiterating her plea. "Tell me."

Raphael didn't answer and Allison began to feel herself falling back to sleep. _Raphael… you were scared. I've seen all of them scared and worried except for you. I just… I want to know. I let you know who I am… why won't you let me know who _you_ are?_ She was slightly aware that she felt a tinge of sadness at the thought of the one turtle that she had spent so much time with was also the one who refused to let anyone know what made him tick. He must have had his reasons for it, of course, but-

"People were dyin'," Raphael suddenly whispered. "… they were all bein' plucked off right in front 'a me. At first, I couldn't figure out what to do. I just wasn't smart enough. And then Donny died, and I suddenly had a plan. But I couldn't get the others to follow my lead, and then Leo died… and that's when the others started listenin' to me. By the time I finally got two steps ahead 'a the game, I was so pissed off that I kept makin' stupid mistakes. Then we lost Mikey… and all I had left was Casey, April, and Splinter. My anger went away, and I was actually happy to just have those three safe with me… but I didn't realize… Casey and April weren't really Casey and April. They were the Shredder and Karai in disguise. Casey and April died somewhere in the beginnin' of the dream." His voice trailed off as he seemed to lose himself in the world of the nightmare. Allison shifted to hold him tighter as he concluded, "And then they got Splinter. And I was alone. And they let me live with that."

They remained in silence for a moment before Raphael quietly commented, "I can't live that way. Me, I'd rather die than let something like that live in my mind. They took my sais away, and they put me somewhere where I couldn't kill myself… and that was the worst part of it all. Or maybe I wouldn't have killed myself either way. I dunno. I dunno, but I didn't have the choice. And maybe _that _was the worst part. Not havin' a choice and being forced to live with that. Not having the comfort of revenge or pain while everything I ever cared about suffered, just because I was always a minute too late." He paused before finishing with, "There. Now you know. Can ya go to sleep now?"

Allison simply lay there, comparing his steady breathing with his rapid heart rate. Though her mind was clouded, Allison knew that Raphael was telling her something important and… somehow… she felt that he almost _wanted_ her to carry on the subject. But her eyelids were so heavy, and the effects of Donatello's medication were still strong.

"Mmph," she mumbled. "If you stay with me." With an irritated sigh, Raphael asked, "Why? You're a big girl. You need a security blanket to get to sleep?" Hoping her voice wasn't too garbled to be understood, Allison softly replied, "I know I'll be safe… with you."

Silence was the response as she fell asleep once again.

* * *

A few hours later, Allison's eyes fluttered open.

The door to the bedroom was now ajar and the lamp was still on, leaving the room decently lit. Sore, Allison lifted her head from Raphael's shoulder and stretched her neck. She looked down to see that Raphael's eyes were open, and he was warily observing her. "What?" Allison asked. "Oh… was I laying on your injury? I'm sorry! Did I-?"

"No," Raphael interrupted. "No… it's fine. Really." His voice wasn't exactly soft, but it didn't have the angry edge it normally seemed to have. Propping herself up on her good elbow as her injured arm still lay strewn over his midsection, she gazed down at him. She didn't remember very many details of what happened after she gave Donatello Robert's phone number, and she hoped she hadn't said something that upset him.

Hearing voices coming from the open door, Allison looked towards it. "Are the others back?" Seemingly reluctantly, Raphael answered that they were. She slowly tried to slide her arm away from him to get up, exclaiming, "I should go check on them! Is Rob with them?"

She felt a deep chill come over her when Raphael kept his hand on her arm, keeping her in place. "Ya need more sleep, I think," he told her. "What's the rush? Just lie back and get the meds outta your system." Allison looked back at Raphael. "I'm not sleepy," she said, suddenly suspicious. "I want to know that Rob's okay." Though Raphael averted his eyes from her, he kept his steady tone of voice as he stated, "Look, I think you should get more rest, okay? The guys'll come in and talk to you when they're ready." Her throat suddenly dry, Allison insisted, "_I'm_ ready. And I want to talk to them _now_." Managing to pull her arm away from Raphael while ignoring the sharp pain from her wound, Allison quickly clambered out of the bed and made for the door even as Raphael called for her to stop.

Bursting through the door, Allison squinted in the brightness of the living room. The other turtles were there, along with Casey and April. She noticed a sudden jump from Leonardo as his hand went behind his back. Her eyes passing over the others, she saw that they were looking at her oddly, and she felt nauseous once again. However, she doubted that this had anything to do with the zolpidem.

"W-… where is he?" Allison asked lowly. "Where's Robert?" A few of them lowered their eyes to the ground. April was holding Rosalind and looked down at her vacantly. Feeling her panic begin to rise, she took a step into the room and repeated her query. "Guys… where is he? What…?" She looked to Leonardo, who seemed to be looking down almost guiltily. "Leonardo? What is it?"

Leonardo seemed to tense up when Allison turned her attention to him, singling him out. He peered out of the corner of his eyes for some assistance, and Donatello slowly obliged. "Allison," he said gently. "Maybe you should sit down." Ignoring him, she took a step closer to Leonardo, her voice beginning to rise in pitch. "What do you have behind your back? Leonardo, answer me, dammit!"

"Hey, take it easy," Casey told her, standing from his seat on the sofa. "C'mon, just sit and-" He was silenced when Allison let out a frustrated sound and charged at Leonardo, her right arm reaching behind the retreating turtle in an effort to retrieve whatever he had felt he needed to hide from her sight.

A pair of arms encircled her waist and kept her from advancing on Leonardo as he pulled back. "Whoa," she heard Raphael's voice say as she continued to swing for Leonardo. "Leave the heated outbursts to _me_, got that, kid?" She tried to pull away from Raphael, but simply didn't have the strength nor the advantage. "Let _go_ of me! Where's Robert? Where is he?"

"Allison," Leonardo's calm voice gently broke in. "Please, calm down. Sit down, and we'll tell you. We'll tell you everything." She looked Leonardo in the eye for a few moments before finally falling limp against Raphael. Her head pounding with the stress, she allowed both Raphael and Leonardo to lead her to the spot on the sofa that Casey had vacated.

_Superhero movies_, she thought crazily. _In superhero movies, something like this would result in the best friend snapping and becoming the next super villain for some backwards form of revenge. Yes, that's it. Rob's gone round the bend and thought that Ros has been kidnapped, so he's pretending to be the Rat King and is trying to sniff her out. Complicated and clichéd, but at least it results with Rob… with Rob… being alive._ She grew cold and began to shiver. _That's_ what it all came down to, wasn't it? If Robert wasn't back with them, then there was a chance that he might be….

Seeing her anguish, Splinter put a warm hand to her shoulder. "Be at peace, Miss Grayson. Leonardo, give her what you were just showing me." Allison raised her eyes to Leonardo. The turtle seemed to gulp nervously, but eventually acquiesced. Extending his arm, he offered her the small items he had quickly hidden from her view when she entered the room.

In his hand, he held Robert's wallet and cell phone.

She thought she might respond violently, but instead her eyes simply flooded with tears as she tried to make sense of things. Before her vision wavered, she could see several deep scratches on Robert's relatively-new phone that hadn't been there before. The brown leather wallet was badly scuffed and it looked at though something had been gnawing at it.

"God," she whispered airily. Crouching before her, Leonardo gingerly placed the objects on her lap. "We found these in the tunnels by the Union Square subway station. From what we could tell, he was chased by a horde of the rats throughout the subway tunnels. How or _why_ he got in there in the first place, I don't know. But it explains why he must have locked the car with the baby in it. He was obviously trying to protect her by keeping the rats out."

Allison slowly wrapped a hand around the wallet. Through her bandages, she could feel the same softness she always felt when she held it, but there was something… different about it. It seemed like it had recently been drenched in water, and felt as though someone had… scrubbed at it. Seeing her fingers thoughtfully feel about the surface, Leonardo got obviously uncomfortable. "He… we… it was… dirty. We wanted to clean it off before you saw it."

In a low, choked voice, Allison asked, "Blood?" Though she didn't raise her eyes from the wallet, she could tell that Leonardo was looking at her levelly before finally answering, "Yes."

Allison was immobile for a moment, then jerkily nodded her head. She pressed her lips together tightly, not wanting to provide the emotional spectacle that everyone in the room clearly expected. She may have succeeded, until she heard a soft noise coming from the opposite end of the couch. Looking up, she saw that Rosalind was looking at her curiously, her fingers in her mouth as she seemed to ponder what was going on. The baby seemed concerned and, though she knew that she would only cause Rosalind to cry if she began bawling, Allison couldn't help herself.

She stood quickly and reached for Rosalind, picking the girl up as she began to sob. Feeling someone take a step towards her, Allison suddenly darted away from the group and headed for the front door. "Hey," several voices cried out at once. Crying from both her emotional and physical pain as she managed to turn the doorknob, Allison could hear Michelangelo's voice pipe up. "No sweat, dudes. I've got this."

Allison didn't know what she was doing. Rosalind began wailing against her chest as she headed quickly for the stairs, slowing for fear of tripping and hurting them both. She didn't know what she intended to do. She didn't know where she intended to go. She only knew that she needed to go, to leave these creatures and their friends behind before more bad things happened. She knew it wasn't their fault, but she couldn't argue that none of this would have happened if she had only been allowed to fend for herself the night before. She may have been beaten, mugged, raped, or a combination of the three, but she would have never placed Robert in any danger. She would have never left Rosalind… without a father. _No. No, he's still alive. He _has_ to be. Rosalind… she _can't_ be an orphan. No!_

She only managed to make it down three steps before a swift green figure jumped over her and landed a few steps below her. Surprised, Allison almost lost her balance, but Michelangelo quickly kept her from falling. "Easy now, bud," he told her cautiously. "You don't wanna go and earn yourself some new bandages, do you?" As he reached for the baby, Allison swung her injured arm at him. "Get away from me!"

Hit in the head, Michelangelo let out a surprised "Whoa!" He stumbled backwards a little, somehow managing to regain his balance before he could fall down the stairs. Allison paused for a moment before realizing that Donatello had used one of his tools—possibly a wrench—as a temporary splint on her arm, and that she had just hit Michelangelo in the head with it. "Mike!"

Shakily descending a few steps, she carefully reached out towards him. "Mike, I… I'm so sorry! I… oh…." Taking her hand, Michelangelo briskly shook his head, as though dispelling the effects of the strike. "Hey, no worries," he told her, managing a small smile. "So long as you don't scar my pretty face, life's good."

Looking at his face and wondering how it could somehow remain pleasant throughout all of this, Allison tiredly leaned towards him. Michelangelo ascended a step so she wouldn't lean in too far, embracing her with one arm as the other arm reached for Rosalind. "C'mon, mini-bud," he told the little girl. "Come to Uncle Mikey while Auntie Ally takes a rest on the steps."

Allison allowed Michelangelo to take the girl as she slid away from him, slowly sitting on the stairs. She noticed that Rosalind's weeping quieted down to a small snivel as the baby wrapped her small arms around Michelangelo's broad shoulders. Sitting two steps below Allison and noting her gaze, he shrugged slightly and said, "Hey, what can I say? I've got a way with kids."

Unable to answer, Allison merely wrapped an arm around herself and looked away, her eyes still flooding with tears. She felt a hand fall consolingly on her leg. "Calm down," Michelangelo said with an uncharacteristic air of sincerity. "We'll find him. Honest. I dunno when or where or what he's gonna be like when we do, but I promise we'll find him."

Not knowing why she allowed herself to place any stock in his eternal optimism, Allison looked up at him. "Then… you think he's still alive?" She was unnerved by the fact that Michelangelo seemed to just gaze at her silently, indicating that he was thinking over his answer. He didn't seem like the type to do that very often. Finally, he allowed himself to smile once again as he replied, "Well, he wandered into the sewers. He's probably sittin' in what's left of our lair right now… thumbing through my comics, I'd bet." With a steady glare, Allison told him, "No jokes, Mike. If you think he's dead, then I'd rather you tell me before just getting my hopes up." Seeming to be alarmed by the sudden coldness in her voice, Michelangelo answered, "Hey, I dunno. I dunno much of anything right now-"

"How's that different from the rest 'a the time?"

Allison peered behind her to see Raphael standing at the head of the steps, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at her, Michelangelo, and Rosalind. "Hey Raph," Michelangelo said, "I thought I said I had this covered."

"She ain't a pizza, Mikey," came the sarcastic response. "And besides, ya took too long. Playtime's over. Back in the apartment." Standing, Michelangelo jokingly whined, "Aw, you just wanna have her all to yourself, Casanova." As Allison accepted the hand that Michelangelo offered to help her to her feet, Raphael angrily asked, "Hey, you want a fist in your mouth, wiseguy?" Leading Allison back up the steps, Michelangelo laughed, "Ooh, touchy."

Though she allowed herself to stand, Allison didn't move. "I can't," she said quietly. Michelangelo asked what she was talking about and she elaborated. "I can't. Go in there, I mean. I… no. I don't like just sitting around and not doing anything. I can't do that. Leonardo's just going to ask me a lot of questions, and Donatello's probably going to drug me some more. And it's a big group of people. I don't like large groups of people."

"Ya grew up in New York City," Raphael told her, unmoved, "and ya tryin' to play off like you don't like big groups 'a people? What the hell influenced _your_ choice of cities to live in?" Raphael's words made her flinch. "You of all people," she whispered without looking at him, "should know why I stay here." He asked what she meant by that, but received no answer.

"C'mon," Michelangelo said, trying to lead her up the stairs. "Let's just go inside, okay?" Raphael repeated his question once again. Trying to remember how much she had actually told Raphael during their long conversation in his room the night before, Allison didn't react to either of them. She tried to push past Michelangelo and continue down the stairs, but he kept her from going down. "Bud, c'mon. Seriously. We just need to talk to you so we can help you out-"

"Well, I don't _feel_ like talking," Allison said bluntly. "Just let me go. I need to be alone." Michelangelo tried to persist, but Raphael stopped him. "Let her go, Mikey." Michelangelo looked at him incredulously but didn't say anything as Raphael said in a slightly quieter voice, "I know what she means about wantin' to be alone. Besides… she won't go anywhere so long's we got the kid."

After a long time in which Allison kept her eyes glued to the ground, Michelangelo finally stepped away and let her pass. "Don't touch any 'a the junk in the shop," Raphael called after her as she began to descend the stairs. "The door's probably locked, but April'll kill ya if anything breaks." Though she wasn't sure whether or not he could tell, Allison nodded in response.

At the bottom of the stairs, she began walking about the dim corridor. Her left arm hung heavily at her side as she wrapped her uninjured arm around her waist. She didn't want to leave Rosalind alone, but Michelangelo seemed to be able to calm her down, if nothing else. Still, she couldn't help but worry. Seeing a door that probably led to a basement, Allison thought, _I might… I might be the only person _left_ to worry about her._ At the thought, Allison opened the door and, seeing a set of stairs leading towards a dark basement, hurriedly made her way down, her vision blurred by tears once again.

The basement appeared mostly bare except for a few boxes and shelves. It seemed as though April somehow managed to keep every place in her building as tidy and dust-free as possible. Squinting in the darkness, Allison made her way to a large partition with the intent of finding someplace to sit, but stopped as she turned the corner. There seemed to be a large gaping hole in the wall, as though someone had dug a tunnel though the wall. Because of the shadows, Allison couldn't tell exactly what this was, but decided against sitting anywhere near there.

Walking further into the basement, Allison stopped at a concrete wall and turned around. From where she was, she could keep an eye on the strange hole and also remain out of sight from any of the others who tried to look for her. Leaning against the wall, she lowered herself to the ground and huddled as tightly as she could. The dankness of the lower level chilled her immediately, but she didn't move from her spot as she finally allowed the tears to fall freely.

Everything was crumbling down all around her. If Robert—the person who helped her get on her feet after being a college dropout with almost no set future—was gone, how was she expected to carry on with her life? Everything she had ever done, everything she had learned—even her maternal instincts—none of it would have ever been realized if not for Robert. Now… if he was gone…. _How much blood must have been on the wallet for it to be scuffed so hard? Did it just fall out of his pocket, or did they find the… the body… and are just keeping it from me because they don't want me to go crazy?_ Hugging her knees, she rocked back and forth as she thought, _Well, they're too late on _that_ score._

She didn't know how long she sat there, crying. It could have been only a few minutes or a few hours. She only knew that she jerked up when she heard a sudden creak on the stairs. Looking up, Allison looked towards the stairway hidden by the concrete partition. Hoping that it wasn't one of the others out searching for her, Allison made her way to her feet and quietly walked towards the other wall as she heard movement on the other side of it.

She was stopped when she heard an unfamiliar voice. "It's cold as shit down here. Why we gotta have basement duty?" Another voice brusquely responded, "Shut the fuck up, junior. Just _look_ for the bitch, got it?"

Alarmed by the tone of the voices and by the harsh words, Allison stopped when she reached the partition and slowly peered to the other side. She could make out two figures, one lean and the other broad… and both tall enough to make them seem imposing. The larger one stayed mostly immobile, his head moving slightly as he surveyed the area while his accomplice began looking around the shelves.

"This is pointless, man. No way she's down here where it's so cold. Better chance that she'd be upstairs, with her friend." The other one stated that they already had people searching upstairs, and reminded his companion to shut up. "We don't want those ninja fuckers on our asses again. If this girl got saved by them last night, then they're probably still with her."

"Man, fuck that," came the response. As the thinner one spoke, he began shifting boxes haphazardly and looking about, obviously not thinking that there was someone else there with them. "Max said he saw her walking here with some guy. Probably her boyfriend or something. He's probably the only thing we've got to worry about; him and the chick who runs the store. The weird assholes who jumped Ben and the boys are probably long gone."

"You wanna risk it?" The large one turned sharply towards his garrulous ally. "Go ahead; see what happens when one of them takes a swing at your head with a sword. That's not a butter knife, junior. That shit's real, so I'd rather be down here and find nothing than risk running into them again with just _you_ backing me up."

Allison's blood ran cold as she realized that these two men were part of the same gang as her attackers from the night before. Apparently, they were quick on revenge and…. _How did they find me?_ Was it possible that the entire city really _was_ overrun with crime, and she had simply never noticed it because she never crossed the wrong street or looked under the wrong streetlight?

Seeing the lankier one slowly making his way towards the partition that served as her hiding place, Allison let out a small gasp and began backing away, losing sight of the pair. "Hm?" She heard the searcher make a sound of acknowledgement, and her eyes dashed across the dark confines of her corner, praying for something that could be used as a weapon.

Not seeing anything, Allison remembered about her makeshift splint and how an inadvertent swing with it almost caused Michelangelo to fall down the stairs. Her right hand prying at the bandage, she kept moving backwards as she realized the foreboding silence that suddenly fell over the basement. Tensing up as she expected to back into the wall soon, Allison bit back the whimper that wanted to arise when she began pulling at the unknown tool from the unraveling bandages.

What followed was a flurry of events that Allison could not keep straight.

The heel of her foot hit some sort of concrete outcropping, causing her to unexpectedly lose her balance and fall back just as a shadowy figure turned the corner. In the same instance a sudden scuffle could be heard from somewhere beyond the partition that had served as her hiding place. Bracing herself to crash into a wall, Allison was shocked when she realized that she had fallen into the opening she had seen before and had tried to avoid. An unpleasant cold moisture clung to the ground, and an odd smell hung in the air. The man who was approaching her turned to look in the direction from which the sounds of struggle were coming, then quickened his pace and approached her with intent. Still trying to pull at the instrument in her bandages, she managed to suddenly yank it out, causing her a bright bolt of pain. She manifested this pain as strength and used it to slam the wrench against the hand that was being stretched out to her, an audible _crack_ resounding from the impact. The stranger cried out in pain, and Allison kicked him blindly from the ground, her foot connecting with his groin. As he doubled up, Allison managed to jump to her feet and hit him with the wrench again, this time in the head.

Breathing hard and making noises of pain and frustration, Allison looked up as another shadowy, unfamiliar figure stepped around the partition. Other shadows seemed to shift behind him, seeming to signal that the others had somehow joined up with the twosome. She was beginning to grow dizzy and couldn't tell if he was approaching her or not, but didn't want to stand around and find out.

Turning, Allison ran as fast as she could into what she realized was a sewage tunnel.


	10. Chapter 10

Allison slowed herself to a stop when she felt her chest might explode.

Bracing herself against a wall, Allison tried to get her breathing under control. The darkness of the sewers enveloped her, and she tried not to panic as she realized that she was utterly lost. She had made numerous turns to escape her pursuers, only to make it near impossible to be rescued.

_Calm down_, she told herself, wiping away the tears and sweat with her good arm, the wrench still clenched tightly in her hand. _The turtles won't let you be alone. Once they're done with the bozos in the building, they'll come after you. Splinter's a rat; he should be able to follow your scent. _Her respiration slowly getting under control, Allison pressed her back against the wall, struggling to be able to make out _some_thing in the gloom. _Just stay where you are, and they'll find you._

She repeated these words to herself as she began to relax as well as she could, given the circumstances. The sound of running water came from somewhere unidentifiable, and her eyes managed to adjust just enough to be able to make out shifting shadows. She was about to risk sitting herself on the damp ground when her eyes picked up on a sudden movement. _What was that?_

It was far too large to be a rat or any other animal, but didn't look quite tall enough to be a human, either. The shadow came into view again, this time standing a few yards ahead of her. It looked like it was hunched over and breathing hard. Allison wanted to call out one of the turtles' names, but didn't want risk it being someone—or some_thing_—else.

It slowly approached her, and Allison pressed herself as far back against the wall as she could. It definitely wasn't one of the turtles, and Allison didn't know what else it could be. _Great, _she thought whilst trembling and recoiling. _More mutants living in the sewers. Perfect way to top off the week._ "Ah… li… son?"

Alison blinked at the dim figure walking towards her. _It… it knows my… _what_ is it?_ "Ah-son," the breathy voice came again. "Ah-son, what… what 'a you doon… what…? Ah-son…." As it got closer, the thing reached out towards her, causing Allison to gasp and press herself backwards once more. "Get back!" Her words came out in a screech. The figure stopped and cocked its head to the side, slowly standing upright. "Ah-son," it murmured huskily again. "Ah-son… what… what's happening… to me? _Why won't you let me touch you?_"

The last sentence ended in an enraged roar, causing Allison to scream in surprise even as she tried to sidestep the creature. A flash of red came from where its eyes should have been, and its arms snaked out for her. As they cut through the flesh at her sides, Allison realized that "arms" was not the proper word. They were sharp, bristled appendages, and as she was pulled closer to the creature, she discovered something that made her ill. It was partially-human. Not only that…

…but it was partially-_Robert_.

His naturally large black eyes were grossly enlarged and angled to the side. From his mess of black hair, two large antennae sprouted and flicked through the air. His nose and mouth remained the same, as did much of his body. But from what Allison could see, his arms doubled in number, and ended in something more akin to pincers than hands. Gaping into his face and realizing that it seemed as though his eyes were becoming compound rather than two separate, whole orbs, Allison's blood ran cold when she realized that he was… was…. _Half-cockroach._

"_Ah-son!_" The thing that was once Robert shook her firmly. "What is it? I feel… not myself." She put a hand to what used to be his shoulder, grimacing at the jelly-like feel of his body. "Robert," she murmured in between confused tears. "My God… Robert… what's happened? How did you…? Oh my God."

"Cree-sure," he growled. "Big cree-sure. Rats. Lotsa rats. And they all ran away when cree-sure came, but the cree-sure cut me. It cut me bad. And the crazy guy with rats, he killed it. And he left me. He thought I dead. I think I am." Gazing down at the limbs protruding from his grotesque body, his shiny eyes seeming to glistened with momentary sadness. "This… this hell," he whispered.

Only one name went through Allison's mind. _Donatello_. Surely, Donatello could explain what happened. Maybe Robert had come into contact with something from the alien race that created the mutagen from which the turtles had come. Maybe there was a way to reverse the effects… there _had_ to be. "R… Robert.…"

"How many days?" Allison looked up at the face that had once been so kind and handsome. "Ah… ah… Ah-li-son… how many days have I been gone?" _Days?_ She tried to pry herself away from his sharp grip as she realized that warm blood was pouring down her sides. "Robert… it hasn't been days."

"Weeks?"

"No. Robert… it's only been a few hours."

The insect eyes looked at her in shock. "Hours?" Allison nodded, flinching as his pincers seemed to sink even further into her flesh at his surprise. "Yes… you left my apartment this morning, and it's nighttime now, I think. Maybe ten, twelve hours? Robert… ow… Rob… let go-"

"Your part-ment?" Allison gaped at him as the voice turned into a low hiss. She was about to repeat her request for release when she was suddenly flung to the ground. Landing on her bruised shoulder in about an inch of murky water, Allison bit back a shriek. "You… Rhys… you left me so you could be with Rhys."

Confused, Allison tried to make sense of what was being murmured. "No," she replied, remembering that Robert had heard Raphael's voice from the bathroom and thought that it was her boss. "Rob, Rhys was never in my apartment today." A loud, chilling hiss came from the creature that was once Robert. Turning to look up at him, Allison saw that the eyes glowed red once more and was horrified that the face had become even less recognizable as Robert. Could mutations really occur so quickly?

She tensed up and prepared a scream as she saw him lunge for her, but was quickly surprised into silence when something else came from behind her and intercepted him with a series of kicks to the abdomen. "Allison!" She was quickly helped to her feet and turned around, seeing Donatello and Splinter behind her. "Miss Grayson," Splinter asked, concerned, "are you all right?"

Allison spun around just in time to see Raphael's feet touch the ground. He hunched over slightly, breathing hard as a hand went to his injury from the previous night. "Man," he said brusquely. "I _hate_ bugs!" He withdrew his sais and was about to charge at the fallen creature before Allison ran for him and held one of his arms back. "No!"

Not wanting to hurt her, Raphael simply looked down at her rather than plunge ahead. "What? I'm doin' you a favor!" Allison yelled at him not to hurt it. Donatello stepped up behind the two of them. "She's right, Raph. If this is what I think it is, then it needs to be contained and studied, not destroyed." Shrugging the girl off of him, Raphael turned back to the creature that was making its way back up. "Well, I can be scientific, too. Just watch me dissect it."

As Raphael ran for it, Allison screamed again. "Raphael, no! That's Robert!" Alarmed, Raphael slowed and looked back at her. "Huh?" In the moment that his attention was diverted, the thing that used to be Robert swung an appendage at him, causing the turtle to fly into a wall with a short cry. Allison tried to go for him, but Donatello held her back. "_That's_ Robert?" Donatello asked.

Picking himself up and rubbing his aggravated injury, Raphael muttered, "Somehow, this ain't quite how I pictured him." Robert charged at Raphael again, but Donatello quickly darted past Allison and stood in front of his brother, bearing his bo. "Okay, Rob," he said, trying to keep calm. "Just relax. Calm down and we can take you someplace where we can run some tests. Let's make this easy, okay?" Another loud hiss sounded, and Allison jumped as Robert bore down on the two turtles, only to be hit by a roundhouse kick from Raphael. "Guess he isn't gonna make this easy."

"Be careful!" Allison called out. "Don't hurt him!" As Robert attacked once again and Donatello used his bo to keep him at bay, Raphael commented, "Hey, you talkin' to us or to your bug buddy here?" Swatting Robert soundly with his staff and giving Raphael and himself some breathing room, Donatello cautioned, "Be careful! He looks a lot like the victims of Bishop's outbreak from a few months ago. If that's the case, then we can't risk him contaminating us. Remember what happened after I got that little cut." Raphael nodded, putting his sharp weapons away. "Right. Don't need _that_ to happen again."

_Contaminate? Cut?_ Allison didn't know what Donatello meant by that, but as she looked down at the blood dripping from her shirt and felt the sting from where Robert had punctured through with his insect legs, Allison shuddered. Splinter seemed to notice this and took a firm hold of her arm. As she looked up at him, she saw the rat looking solemnly at the turtles. "Raphael! Take her to Leatherhead! Hurry!"

"Huh?" Both she and Raphael looked at Splinter in confusion as she was urgently pushed towards Raphael. "Splinter," Raphael objected, "I can't just leave Donny." A gasp came from Donatello. Looking at him, Allison saw that he had caught sight of her new wounds, drawing Raphael's attention to them. "Oh crud," the latter turtle muttered.

"Go," Splinter insisted, stepping up besides Donatello and pushing Raphael and Allison away. "We will subdue him. Your brothers will be contacted at the slightest difficulty. Now go." Seemingly unsure, Raphael took hold of Allison's wrist and began leading her away. "And do be careful, my son," Splinter called as they began to run off.

"Raphael," Allison breathed, trying to keep up with him. "What happened… to Robert? What… what's happened? What's Bishop's outbreak?" After a moment of silence, Raphael responded, "Somethin' that you should never have to worry about." Before Allison could say anything else, Raphael drew her closer and lifted her in his arms, allowing him to gain in speed.

"Raph!" Allison exclaimed, instinctively putting her arms around him to keep herself from falling. "Stop! You shouldn't carry me! You're hurt!" Intent on getting to his destination, Raphael didn't seem to hear her. She was about to reaffirm her argument when he said, "You told me that you knew I'd keep ya safe. I'd hate to prove ya wrong." Allison could do little more than look at him, surprised. Realizing that he had indeed been listening to her during at least _one_ of the conversations they had together, she conceded to remain in silence.

After some time, Raphael slowed and gently put her down. The tunnel they were approaching looked like it had been collapsed by some sort of massive explosion. Taking her hand, Raphael nevertheless led her through the rubble, slowly beginning to climb through the heaps of concrete and steel. "C'mon. It's a bit rough, but it's the quickest way through."

Gripping his hand tightly and ignoring the pain the grasp brought to her arm, Allison followed after him and asked, "Where are we going?" Pulling her through the debris, Raphael responded, "We're just gonna see a doctor. That's all." Allison gazed down thoughtfully at her bleeding wounds, wondering if she was "contaminated" and what that would imply. "Just a warnin', though," he added. "He ain't too fond of humans."

Scaling a particularly large piece of fallen stone, Allison muttered, "Great. Another non-human. Just what I've been looking forward to." Holding onto her waist as he allowed them to slide down the piles of remains, Raphael commented, "Hey, we're in the sewers. Down here, _you're_ in the minority." He released her and walked towards a tunnel from which a small bit of light shone through. "Yo, Leatherhead. You home? It's Raph."

"Leatherhead?" Allison murmured under her breath as she followed him. "What kind of a name is-?" The words died on her lips when the "doctor" stepped into view, blocking the entire tunnel.

Allison gaped up at the seven-foot reptilian mass in the delicate glasses and lab coat. Her first thought was that it had to be some kind of optical illusion or at least a joke, but the idea proved false when the giant lizard stepped towards them. "Ah, Raphael," he said in a surprisingly soothing voice. "Judging by your company, I take it this isn't just a routine visit?"

"Ya take it right," Raphael responded, leading Allison into the tunnel. Warily sidestepping the one called Leatherhead, Allison looked inside and realized that they were in some kind of laboratory. The infrastructure looked completely bashed and ruined, but that didn't seem to interfere with the strange chemicals and technology that was evident on every table.

Carefully sitting Allison down on a wooden chair, Raphael explained, "She's been attacked by a monster and it cut through her sides. Donny thinks… he thinks… it might be one of Bishop's leftovers." The lizard looked down at the turtle, his eyes growing stern. "Bishop," he snarled. "That _snake_." Allison couldn't help but let out a startled laugh as she wiped some sweat from her brow. "A whole menagerie of reptiles. I shouldn't be surprised."

"Bishop is a human," Leatherhead clarified, kneeling before her and looking at the crimson liquid currently drying at her sides. "Or as close to human as the Devil himself can be. He's the reason I hide away here in the sewage tunnels. He's the reason that I choose to stay away from the rest of his race." His brown eyes softened as he looked up at her, noting her discomfort. "Forgive me. Any friend of the turtles is a friend of mine, and I trust that Raphael would not lead one of his enemies here. My name is Leatherhead."

He stuck out one of his massive hands, and Allison looked at it for a moment before shaking it. "Allison. Allison Grayson." Observing the wince that came from her face despite his soft grasp upon her hand, Leatherhead noticed the bandages covering it, then looked closely along the rest of her body. "Well, Miss Grayson, it appears that you've had quite an adventure."

"'Adventure' ain't the word," Raphael muttered, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. "Let's just get this show on the road and examine her, okay?" Leatherhead gazed up at him, his eyes going over Raphael's injuries as well. "It would appear that you've run into some sort of trouble, Raphael. I recommend you sit down so that I may look at you next. It must be bad if Donatello did not come here himself."

Raphael bitterly remarked that he was fine, and Allison pleaded, "Please, Raphael." He turned to look at her, noting the concern behind her pain. Wrapping her arms around herself as she sunk deeper into the chair, she begged, "Please just sit down. I don't want anything to happen to you." He seemed to consider this for a moment before letting out a quick, breathy laugh and sitting atop a short cabinet. "Whatever, Mom."

"How fascinating," Leatherhead remarked, moving to a table and retrieving an assortment of things. "Someone from whom Raphael will actually accept orders. Perhaps you have more superhuman abilities than meets the eye, Miss Grayson." Raphael said nothing in response, but merely looked away as Leatherhead gently took hold of Allison's arm.

She flinched at the touch. It was clear that Splinter hadn't broken her arm with the golf club, but it was still extremely sore. Leatherhead observed her movements carefully, intent on not hurting her. "This may sting," he told her, softly taking her hand. From his corner, Raphael muttered, "Just don't let 'er clench your hand. She's got a killer grip."

As Allison turned to look at Raphael, she felt a quick, hard nip at her thumb. Looking down, she saw that Leatherhead was wiping away at a small droplet of blood, his other hand holding a strange-looking device. Whatever it was, it had clearly just taken a blood sample, and the assortment of beeps from it made it clear that it was in the process of doing an analysis.

"Interesting," Leatherhead said at length, releasing Allison and turning away from her. Bringing her arm close to her body, Allison asked, "What?" He didn't answer, but instead continued his slow amble towards Raphael. The turtle raised his eyes to meet his and, because it was impossible to peer over Leatherhead's immense shoulders, Allison was left out of the nonverbal communication. The quiet disturbed her, and so she hesitantly brought up the question, "Am I… contaminated?"

Leatherhead turned back to her, and Allison noted that Raphael was now looking down. She couldn't read either of their expressions, and that worried her. "You've come into contact with a very, _very_ concentrated version of the outbreak virus," Leatherhead told her. "From what I can tell, it is at least _three_ times more potent than that which turned Donatello into a raging monster not too long ago. From what I remember, he was experiencing cold-like symptoms for a number of weeks before undergoing the mutation. _This_ version, however, may take only several days to transform you if it's not properly dealt with. Given your injured state, however, and the adrenaline that has undoubtedly been pumping through your body for at least the past few hours, you may start feeling symptoms as soon as 24 hours from now. Time is imperative."

That said, he quickly went back to one of his tables and started rummaging. Shocked, Allison could do little else but stare numbly at his back. Suddenly chilled, she wrapped her arms around herself again and looked down. _A monster. Robert… wait…._ "Leatherhead," she said softly. "What if… what if it's less than that?" Without turning to her, he responded, "There are _always _'what ifs' in science, Miss Grayson."

"No" she whispered. Her eyes instinctually looked up at Raphael, and she saw that he was looking at her curiously. "Robert… he changed that much in only twelve hours, at the _most_. And… he might've been hurt… but given the past day and my stressors… what if…."

"What if she's got less than that?" Raphael finished, realizing the truth in her reasoning. "Like… an hour or two?" Allison's gaze returned to Leatherhead, who had stopped what he was doing to look at her fearfully. "Oh no," he said lowly. "No, we can't have that." Jumping to his feet, Raphael approached Leatherhead. "Haven't ya got any of the cure from last time lyin' around? I thought you scientists _always_ kept a back-up."

"Don't be ridiculous," Leatherhead told him. "Of course I do. At least, I have the components to put it together quickly, which is what I was doing. However…." As he trailed off, his eyes returned to Allison. "However, you mentioned a… a 'Robert.' Do you mean to tell me that you are acquainted with the creature who gave you this virus?"

Allison nodded fervently. "Yes! He's my best friend. If you can help him, then-" He cut her off. "Miss Grayson, I… if this strain of the outbreak is as powerful as you say, then I'll have to put together an equally powerful version of the serum. In that case, I only have enough to fully cure _one_ of you."

Allison and Raphael gasped sharply. "Only one?" Raphael asked. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me." Leatherhead shook his head sadly. "Perhaps Donatello may have something, but it would be weaker than what I can put together, as these are solutions I took from Area 51 before Bishop destroyed it. I can try, on the other hand, to make two diluted solutions, to stave off the effects until-"

"No," Allison interrupted. "Make the stronger one and give it to Robert." Annoyed, Raphael told Leatherhead, "Ignore her. She usually says stupid crap like that." Allison bolted from her seat and pushed Raphael backwards, stumbling due to her wounds. "Shut up!" Surprised, Raphael grabbed onto her arms to keep both of them from falling over. "Robert gave me everything I have! Robert has a _baby _to look after! He _needs_ to be cured, so don't act like I don't know what I'm talking about!"

"You _don't_!" Raphael nearly yelled back at her. "Stop throwin' yourself in front 'a danger all the time! You're _human_! You're a normal human being, so be happy with that and stop tryin' to prove to yourself that you're special! You're _not_! Be thankful for that!"

Allison made an enraged sound and tried to lunge at Raphael, but was held back. Leatherhead had wrapped an enormous arm about her waist and was pulling her backwards as he advanced on Raphael. "Stop it," the lizard ordered. "Neither of you are hatchlings, so act like the adults you _are_!" With a brisk swing of his arm, Allison was thrown back into her previous seat.

She was breathing hard and sweating. A slightly nauseous feeling overcame her when she realized that she had been attempting to attack Raphael. Never in her right mind would she imagine herself confrontational enough to even _try_ something so foolhardy. _Maybe I'm _not_ in my right mind_, she thought as she peered up at Leatherhead glaring down at her. _Maybe… it's already starting._

"If you truly want the cure to be given to your friend, Miss Grayson," Leatherhead said evenly, "then I suggest you keep your calm. Emulating Raphael's behavior will do nothing but perhaps increase the potency of the virus already flooding your veins. If you mutate too quickly, then we will have no choice but to use the serum on you in order to protect ourselves from what you may do. So if you would like this 'Robert' to regain his humanity, you may just be forced to suffer quietly through Raphael's impudence."

Turning to Raphael, who was rubbing his neck in the aftershock of Allison's outburst, Leatherhead simply said, "Curb your attitude or I'll bite your head off." Raphael glared at him as Leatherhead made his way back to his table and continued his hasty work.

Raphael returned his gaze to Allison, and she quickly looked away from him, embarrassed by her present state. "I'm sorry," she said meekly. After a brief pause, Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and let out a single, bitter laugh. "Yeah, you'd better be." Leatherhead released a cautionary growl and Allison snapped her head up and glared at the turtle. His eyes holding a wry sort of humor as a very dim smile surfaced on his face, Raphael added, "Ya almost forced me to hurt ya." Allison's gaze softened, and she found herself smiling sarcastically. "Hurt me? Heh… you couldn't ever hurt me, Green Boy."

"Big talk for just a little chick."

"I've got six inches _and_ at least six years on you; who you calling little, you jerk?"

"Idiot."

"Twerp."

Leatherhead peered at the two of them as they continued their rather lighthearted exchange. With a shake of his head and a small sigh, he uttered, "Ah, friendship blossoms even in a thorny patch." The two of them remained silent for a moment. Then, Raphael said, "I think he just called ya thorny."

With a roll of her eyes and a wider smile, Allison flipped him the finger.


	11. Chapter 11

"Is that understood, Miss Grayson?"

Allison nodded. Leatherhead was carrying her on his back as Raphael ran alongside them. "As long as my end of the deal is understood," she told him. Leatherhead answered that it was affirmative. She glanced down at Raphael. "You?" Without bothering to look at her, he simply ran faster. "Nuthin' doin'," was his response.

She watched thoughtfully as he ran ahead of them. Knowing he wasn't likely to relent anytime soon, she sighed and looked down. "Raphael seems to have gained a sort of affinity for you," Leatherhead commented. Allison smirked bitterly. "Right. If he had _any_ kind of 'affinity' for me, he'd agree to my terms." Laughing good-naturedly as he picked up speed, Leatherhead replied, "No matter how much Raphael cares about someone, the only terms he agrees to are his _own_. That's what makes him Raphael."

A beeping sound came from in front of them, and Allison looked up as Raphael reached into his belt and took out the communicator that Donatello had called the "shell cell." As he answered it, she realized that Leatherhead was right; whether or not she and Raphael somehow shared some kind of friendship, he was never going to be able to agree to what she wanted. She found it odd, as she had thought that he would be the one turtle who _would_.

Leatherhead slowed when Raphael suddenly changed direction. "Raphael!" The bandanna-wearing reptile looked back at him. "This way," he said, putting his cell away. "They've got him mostly-tranquilized and took 'im back to what's left 'a the lair. Donny's gonna try 'n fix 'im." Leatherhead sped up and they were once again running side-by-side when he said, "Donatello? Does he have the means to recreate the cure?" Raphael shrugged. "I dunno, but he's gonna give it a crack. You know Donny; if it gives him an excuse to play with machines and chemicals, he's all over it."

Leatherhead marveled over how interesting it would be if Donatello could reconstruct something that had cured him not long before with only the simple technology he had available to him. Looking down, Allison hoped that Donatello managed to "interest" the scientist in the mutant crocodile. She hoped very sincerely that they would get there quickly and discover that Donatello was even more of a genius than she had given him credit for, and that Robert was already mostly back to his former self. She prayed that this was the case… because the plan she and Leatherhead had formulated required more bravery than she thought she had.

"Hold on," Leatherhead told her. She tightened her grip around him as he suddenly jumped in the air, leaping over the debris left behind by the Rat King's explosions the previous night. She jolted as he landed heavily, almost losing her grip. "My apologies," he quickly said, gently lowering her onto the ground. "Are you all right?"

A bit disoriented, Allison looked past Leatherhead and saw the semi-familiar lights of the turtles' lair. "Yes," she lied shakily. Landing silently behind her after scaling the rubble, Raphael muttered, "Liar." She looked at him sternly, but he nevertheless ignored her and began heading towards the entrance. "C'mon," he said. "Let's see what the Boy Wonder managed to do."

Allison followed Raphael and Leatherhead into the disorderly lair. "Ah, sewer sweet sewer," Raphael remarked sarcastically. By what was left of Donatello's heavy machinery stood a large glass containment unit, holding what looked like a nearly six-foot-tall angry cockroach. "Yegh, keep forgettin' about the ambience," Raphael added with a shudder as he caught sight of the insect.

"Robert!" Allison broke away from Raphael and went for the encasement unit. Donatello and Leonardo were by a desk looking at something on a computer screen, and they gazed up at the trio as they entered. "Oh, great timing, Leatherhead," Donatello said as his friend came to join him by the computer. "Maybe _you_ can make some sense of this."

Allison stopped in front of the glass that held her best friend prisoner. At the sight of her, a spine-tingling hiss emitted from what looked like his mouth. Instead of being as repulsed as she usually was by insects, Allison felt her heart breaking. _He's completely gone,_ she realized. Placing a hand on the glass and closing her eyes as she looked away, she quietly murmured his name.

"I know how you feel, bud." Allison looked up to see Michelangelo approaching her from the other side of the large confinement. Though his face was serious, his voice was still as lighthearted as ever. "I remember when it was Donny inside one of these Coke bottles. I tried to be nice to him, and he tried to _eat_ me. _Me_! That's like… _cannibalism_, man! He should know that his fellow reptiles are tough and bony and don't taste really good in general-"

"Yo Mikey, put a lid on it, will ya?" Raphael called. He stood at the entryway with his arms over his chest, as though blocking the exit. "I don't think she wants to think about Donny scarfin' ya down… though I'd give my shell to see somethin' like that."

Michelangelo was about to respond when Leatherhead finished examining the data Donatello had compiled. "It is just as I have feared." Allison forgot about the two turtles and turned her attention to the crocodile as he continued to speak. "This formula that you have put together would do little to bring him back to his human form, except perhaps grant him powers of speech once again." Donatello let out an aggravated groan. "I don't _get_ it. What am I missing?"

Leatherhead put a large hand on the turtle's shoulder. "The technology of Area 51," he answered lowly. "We are not exactly a government-funded organization, and so replicating what was done on you with the assistance of Bishop's security clearance will be all but impossible."

"What's the deal, bro?" Michelangelo asked, approaching the group by the computers. "I thought Bishop released like an airborne version of the cure all around the city and sewers. How'd Robby get stuck like this?"

Leonardo shook his head sadly. "It's not always that simple, Mikey. Sometimes, a single cure isn't enough to fully eradicate a disease. Just as some people are actually allergic to the vaccinations they receive for certain illnesses, sometimes the compounds in a medication react with the person's unique DNA or some such thing and actually make the disease _worse_." Michelangelo stared at his brother dumbly for a moment before pointing at him pseudo-accusingly. "Okay, you're really Donny and decided to dress up like Leo just to confuse me, right?"

"Confusing ya ain't exactly rocket science, Mikey," Raphael commented.

"So what does this mean?" Allison asked worriedly. "We have a vial of the old cure; is it not going to work on Robert?" Donatello met her eyes. "It doesn't mean that at all. It just means that the original solution didn't work on whatever Robert contracted the virus from. Instead of getting rid of it, the fact that the creature's immune system could combat it made the outbreak even stronger. From what I can see, Robert isn't exhibiting any uncharacteristic symptoms, but it's going to take a formula of much more potency than anything I can make here."

Taking all of this in, Allison looked down. "So it's settled," she whispered softly. She heard the tinkling of shifting glass as Leatherhead removed the sealed beaker filled with the solution he had thrown together. "Take this and vaporize it into a breathable form, and diffuse it into the containment unit. It is nearly five times more concentrated than my original cure, so it should be enough to completely eliminate all effects of the outbreak in him, _and_ knock out the common cold, if he happened to have it."

As Donatello and Leatherhead compared notes on the contents of the glass, Allison turned back to look at the creature that would soon be Robert once again. "Allison?" It was Leonardo's voice. He waited for a moment for a response that didn't come. "Leatherhead, what's your assessment on Allison's wounds?"

Another pause followed before Leatherhead reluctantly spoke. "Miss Grayson has chosen… alternative methods of healing." Confused, Leonardo asked, "Alternative?" Both of her hands balled into fists at her side, Allison responded without looking up. "Yes, alternative. As in, whatever Fate throws at me." Irate, Raphael threw in, "As in, she's an idiot."

"Whoa, whoa," Michelangelo interrupted. "Fate? You mean you're just gonna let yourself turn into an ugly slimy _monster_?" Shooting a glance at the cockroach in the containment unit, he whispered, "No offense."

Leonardo stepped towards her. "Allison, I can't let you do that. Leatherhead, can't you divide the solution 60/40 between them? Or even 70/30? Maybe the fact that she's still human will-" Turning sharply away from Leonardo, Allison argued, "It wouldn't work, Leonardo. From what data Leatherhead managed to analyze from my blood sample, he's assessed that Robert must be so far gone that he needs the strongest cure we can give him."

"Sooo…" Michelangelo brought up, "… what about you?" Not liking the feeling of all of the turtles' eyes on her, Allison turned away and circled the unit that Robert was being held in, sliding down to a sitting position against it. "I'll tell ya what about her,"  
Raphael stated. "Little Miss Martyr over there's plannin' on goin' kamikaze on us."

"What!" Leonardo exclaimed, alarmed. In a flash, he was crouched at Allison's side and grabbed hold of her arm, about to reprimand her. "Calm down, Leonardo," Leatherhead called after him. "Raphael is merely being theatrical." With a roll of his eyes, Raphael muttered, "Like _hell_ I am."

"There are still a number of roads to take," Leatherhead explained as Leonardo looked at Allison concernedly. "Once her friend is fully cured and laid to rest on a bed, Miss Grayson will step into the chamber herself, as a precautionary measure. Before then, I will be developing another solution from a small amount of the active ingredient I have managed to ration from my lab and from what I have available to me here. Hopefully, this can be done before she mutates at all, and the cure can be administered directly into her bloodstream, padding its strength. If she begins to transform before I can complete my work, however, it will be trickier. She may be too dangerous for one of us to approach with an injection, and I am not sure if using it as an inhalant will be strong enough to bring her back completely, depending upon what form her mutation takes. If worse comes to worst and she is completely lost to us… then I am afraid that this strain of the outbreak is too fast-acting to contain her long enough for us to track down all of the proper components of the cure in time." He closed his eyes and looked away as he finished. "Given my calculations, her cells will break down at such an alarming rate that after 36 hours… she will be no more."

Allison listened to Leatherhead's explanation with growing nausea. They had been over it numerous times in his lab, but hearing it once again when it was so close to being played out brought an all-new gravity to it. Looking up, she saw that Splinter was sitting in front of the crumpled rice paper door that once led to his room, staring at her levelly. Looking into his dark eyes somehow made her feel guilty, as though she owed it to them to be able to figure out a much more successful solution, one that ended with her most certainly alive. _Don't you think I've tried? Do you really think I _want_ to risk dying?_

"And the icin' on the cake," barked Raphael from behind her, "is that, if she gets too rough, she expects one 'a us to _off_ her." Leonardo told Raphael to calm down, then returned his attention to Allison. "Allison, surely you must know that we simply don't have it in us to purposely kill anyone, especially not someone that we've come to know as a friend."

"That's what _I_ said," Raphael remarked. "Besides, there's no such thing as too rough for me." A sarcastic laugh left his mouth as he added, "In fact, that just makes things more fun."

"Raph, stop it," Leonardo warned. "This isn't funny." Allison stood and walked away from Leonardo once again. "No it isn't," she agreed. "Thanks for the concern, but I already talked this over with Leatherhead, and it's the most sensible way." His humor gone, Raphael stepped towards her and asked, "What's so sensible about dyin' for a roach, huh?"

Whirling towards him, Allison angrily asked, "What's so sensible about dying for a turtle? Or a rat? Or a _human_?Why'd you let yourself get shot for a human?" When Raphael didn't answer and the only sound came from Leonardo trying to calm her down, Allison went on, focusing on Raphael. "Splinter, Mike, they all mean something to you, Raphael. And that _roach_ over there in that glass tube, he means something to _me_. So if you've ever risked your life for a single living thing in this room, then you've got no right to keep harassing me over who or _what_ I choose to risk _my_ life for."

"Miss Grayson, please," Leatherhead said steadily. "Your temper." Donatello stood up from his seat at the computer. "He's right, Allison. Don't do anything that might speed up the outbreak." Allison turned away from Raphael and sat down on the couch, trying to calm herself down. Donatello went back to his computer and began converting the solution to gaseous form. At length, Raphael quietly said, "It just ain't worth it."

She was about to turn and snap at him once more when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw that Splinter had stepped behind her and was moving to sit besides her. "To put out a fire, one must refrain from giving it more fuel." She leaned back on the sofa, tears in her eyes. "Or," she whispered thinly, "you can just let it burn until it runs out of oxygen and dies out."

"Metaphors," Raphael grumbled. "She's talkin' about dyin', and all they do is sit around and exchange metaphors." With a severe voice, Splinter stated, "Raphael, that's enough!" It seemed that, in the back of her mind, they continued to quarrel, but Allison couldn't keep her attention on it. Her body felt warm and her queasiness continued to grow. _It's starting._

"It's starting," she heard Donatello verbalize. Looking up, she saw him standing and looking at the containment unit. "Let's hope this works." He pressed a button, and a loud hiss rang through the lair as the healing gas filled the chamber. The creature within looked up and began to scuttle about the walls, already feeling the effects. Allison stood, her hands folded tightly in front of her chest as the glass became too clouded to look through. _Please God_, she prayed. _Please oh please oh please… if I've _ever_ done anything right in my life, _please_ give Rosalind her father back._

It seemed to take forever for the gas to clear. Allison began walking towards the chamber, slow steps at first, then more hurried as she got closer. She was standing only a few inches away as the interior began to become visible. At first, she saw nothing.

Then she screamed as the creature inside threw itself at the glass, right in her face. She fell backwards, falling to the ground and barely realizing the surprised gasp from the others in the room. Inside, the cockroach was flailing wildly, pounding its legs and head against the glass, as though pleading for release.

"This cannot be!" Leatherhead cried. Allison began trembling on the floor in shock. "I did precisely what I did to cure Donatello, only in more massive doses." He and the turtles began to gather curiously around the glass. Donatello speculated, "Maybe my already-mutated genes were an even larger variable in the formula than you had accounted for?" Leonardo threw in his two cents by remarking, "Or maybe this form of the outbreak is even more dangerous than we had thought."

"Great," Raphael growled. "The majority of the cure didn't do jack on Bug Boy, but it probably coulda at least bought the idiot a few more days." Nearly pouting, Michelangelo murmured, "Man, poor mini-bud. I promised her her Dada. She'll hate me when she finds out Dada's a buggy-bug!" Irritated, Raphael yelled, "Mikey, _can it with the baby talk_! Jeez, this is-"

"Guys!" Donatello exclaimed. "Look!" He pointed at the container and the others followed his gaze. The shiny black exoskeleton of the cockroach seemed to be dripping away from Robert. The antennae were submerging and black hair began growing out of his head. The extraneous pair of legs was slowly falling off, and his primary limbs were bulging as they turned back to arms with hands attached. At that point, Raphael flinched and looked away. "Gross." His eyes caught sight of something else that he wished he didn't see.

"Fantastic!" Donatello cried. "It worked!" Leatherhead nodded solemnly. "Yes. However, the delayed reaction worries me. I can only hope that I can finish the next batch for Miss Grayson before her mutation fully takes root." Taking a step backwards, Raphael muttered, "Then I hope ya got a time machine."

Confused, Michelangelo turned around and let out a high-pitched shriek. "Guys, am I seeing double, or did we get another rat?" The rest of them spun around, startled. "You're not seeing double, Mikey," Leonardo said lowly. Michelangelo let out another scream. "I was afraid of that!"

On the floor lay a being not too unlike Splinter, only much taller and with sleek black fur. The forepaws were stretched over her eyes, as though trying to block out a horrific sight. Right before Raphael's eyes, the front mask of her face was being stretched into a snout, and he felt a surge of empathy as he realized the pain she must be going through. "Leatherhead," he said urgently, "don't just stand there. Get crackin' on the next batch 'a medicine."

"Yes, of course," Leatherhead quickly responded, looking back at the containment unit. "Leonardo, remove the human and get him somewhere safe. Raphael, Michelangelo, see if you can lead Miss Grayson inside once he is out. Donatello, help me put together the solution. Let us make this as efficient as possible."

As soon as the command was given, Leonardo leapt to open the glass container. Most of the gas had cleared away, and Robert was knelt besides the glass, breathing hard and shivering, due to being in the nude. As Leonardo entered, the man looked up at the turtle. "Wha-… who… ah…." Leonardo quickly took him by the arm and lifted him to his feet. "Take it easy, fella," he told Robert. "This is all just a really weird dream. We're going to get you to a bed where you can dream of being an astronaut instead."

Meanwhile, Raphael and Michelangelo were slowly approaching Allison. "Easy there, bud," Michelangelo offered. More upfront, Raphael ordered, "C'mon kid, remember the plan. Get your butt up and head over to the cage before you start losin' it." Instead of responding, Allison jumped to her feet and snarled at the two of them, bearing her sharp teeth. "Eep!" Michelangelo squealed, jumping into Raphael's arms. "I think it's too late for that!"

Throwing Michelangelo off of him, Raphael growled, "Mikey, get serious or I'll feed ya to her myself!" Splinter, who had stepped closer towards Allison, reprimanded Raphael. Noting him, Michelangelo asked, "Ain't there some kind of rat talk that you can give her to make her listen to reason, Splinter?" With a dismal shake of his head, Splinter replied, "I am afraid our friend may be beyond reason, my son."

"Like _shell_ she is!" Raphael spat out as he approached Allison. "Now, you're gonna quit playin' around before I gotta get-" He didn't get the chance to finish. As he reached out a hand for her, she grabbed hold of his arm and swung him backwards. If it weren't for Splinter's quick reflexes that enabled him to jump out of the way, Raphael would have collided with him.

She turned sharply, glaring at Michelangelo with bright red eyes. "Zoinks," cried the startled turtle. Drawing his nunchucks, he cautioned, "Okay bud, I gotta steer ya towards the glass jar for your own good, so let's not make this a wrangle, okay? I'm a ninja, not a cowboy." Allison lunged for him, and Michelangelo gasped as he hit the floor and rolled away. "Cowboy Mikey. I can deal with that. Yee-haw."

With that, he hurled one of his nunchucks at her. They encircled her wrists, and Michelangelo managed to enjoy a brief nanosecond of satisfaction before he saw her simply pull herself free, snapping the chain of his weapon in half seemingly effortlessly. "Whoa," he marveled. "_There's_ a girl who takes her vitamins."

Raphael attempted to jump for her, but Splinter pulled him back. "Raphael, no!" Raphael looked down at his master. "But Splinter, she's turned psycho mutant on us! We gotta get her secured before she hurts herself!" Splinter simply shook his head. "You are more likely to get yourself infected with this new outbreak virus than you are to simply contain her. If you feel obligated to assist her, then I must caution you to refrain from making rash and potentially harmful decisions." His mouth set in a grim line, Raphael stared at Allison as he wracked his brains for a plan.

Seeing that Allison was out of control, Leonardo quickened his pace as he led Robert to one of the undestroyed bedrooms. "W… Why is that… that giant rat… wearing Allison's baseball jersey?" Pulling at the exhausted man, Leonardo uttered, "What? Never seen a rat that likes the Yankees before? This _is_ New York City, after all." Light-headed after his exertions and because of the crazy scene, Robert fell to his knees, losing consciousness. Hurrying to his son's side, Splinter offered his assistance. "Come," he said, helping Leonardo carry Robert away. "The sooner we get him out of harm's away, the sooner you can return to your brothers."

Catching sight of Leonardo, Robert, and Splinter, Allison released another snarl and went for them. She was intercepted by a blanket being thrown at her by Michelangelo, bringing her to a stop. "It's nighttime," Michelangelo cooed. "Time to relax and get some shuteye. Early rat gets the cheese, and all that." With an irritated growl, Allison's sharp claws tore through the fabric and she glowered at the turtle through the shreds. With an uneasy laugh and a shrug, Michelangelo explained, "Well, it works on birds."

"There's a _slight_ difference between birds and rats, Mikey," Donatello commented sarcastically as he hurriedly boiled a preliminary solution at his Bunsen burner. Backing away from the approaching mammal, Michelangelo called, "Hey, no comments from the braniac gallery, okay?"

"Right," Raphael agreed, not happy with being stuck without something to do. "You just keep your trap shut and call us when ya get this cure mixed together, got that?" Annoyed, Donatello answered, "Hey, we're working as fast as we can, okay? Lifesaving medicine takes time, you know." To Raphael, Leatherhead said, "Just keep her away from this area. If she interrupts our work and destroys any of the chemicals, then this operation will be a failure and we shall have to employ her end of our bargain." Remembering about Allison's proposed martyrdom, Raphael clenched his fist as he made his way over to the makeshift lab. "No way am I actin' as a kill switch, ya got that?"

Free from the blankets after unintentionally ripping at part of her own clothing, the creature that was now Allison focused completely on Michelangelo. Seeing that he was being targeted, he readied his remaining nunchuck, maintaining his ground. "This sewer ain't big enough for the both of us," he told her in an exaggerated Western drawl. When she jumped for him once more with her eyes flashing red and her mouth wide open, his eyes widened. "So you can have it!" Michelangelo told her, quickly giving her his back.

She slammed against his shell and hit the ground. He was about to turn and attempt to restrain her, but she quickly got to her feet and rammed her shoulder against his chest, pushing him against a wall. "Oof!" Michelangelo cried out. The wind knocked out of him, he slumped to the ground, dazed. "Mikey!" Raphael called, alarmed as Allison fiercely took hold of his brother's shoulders. "Don, hurry it up or we're gonna have _two_ monsters deckin' it out in a minute!"

Leatherhead looked up and gasped as he noted the situation. "If she contaminates him, Michelangelo's secondary mutation would not even have the chance to take full effect. It would most assuredly be fatal! Raphael," he spoke as he reached into the pocket of his lab coat and withdrew a syringe filled with a yellow liquid. "Now is the time! Hurry, before she cuts through him!"

Raphael gazed at the deadly needle in the crocodile's outstretched palm. "Leatherhead," he said, turning away and looking back towards Michelangelo and the thing that used to be Allison. "I… I can't." A loud warning growl came from Leatherhead, but Raphael still couldn't bring himself to move. Choose between his own brother and a girl that represented everything he was raised to protect? If he were Leonardo, then there was no doubt that family could come first. And though it would ordinarily be a no-brainer for Raphael as well… he begrudgingly realized that he felt something for the girl whose jaws were now inches away from Michelangelo's neck.

Not knowing what he was going to do, Raphael began to charge towards the pair, only to be jolted to a surprise stop. Just before she was about to take a large bite, Allison hesitated, seeming to catch scent of something. Drawing back slightly, the rat looked at Michelangelo with an expression akin to shock.

It was at that moment when Leonardo emerged from the rooms. "Mikey," he exclaimed when the present scenario sunk in. Drawing his katanas and charging, he cried, "No!" His blades were inches away from striking her before Raphael's sais got in their way. "Leo! Back… off!"

Regaining his senses, Michelangelo opened his eyes and saw Allison's mutated face extremely close to his own. He gave voice to another shriek and, to his surprise, Allison let out one of her own, backing away from him. She scuttled backwards on the ground, her paws going over her ears in a panic.

Raphael succeeded in pushing Leonardo's weapons away. "Leo, what the shell is wrong with you!" Sheathing one of his swords and offering a hand to Michelangelo, he told him, "She was going for Mikey! Were you just going to stand there and let it pass?" Getting in Leonardo's face, Raphael argued, "Look, fearless leader, the next time you yell at me for doin' somethin' stupid, take into account that splatterin' her blood everywhere coulda just made things down here a whole lot worse, okay?"

"He's your brother!"

"You think I don't know that?"

"Well, you obviously didn't seem to _care_!"

"Dudes," Michelangelo mediated, pushing them apart as he made his way to his feet. "Chill out. What's going on with her now?" Leonardo and Raphael ceased their bickering long enough to look down at Allison. She had balled herself up in a fetal position, and it seemed as though she was crying softly.

Leonardo put his other sword away and crouched down, looking at her with regret in his eyes. "Allison," he said softly. "Allison, can you hear me? I'm sorry, Allison." Shaking his head thoughtfully, Raphael pondered, "I don't get it. What made her pull back?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Michelangelo commented, "You act like you're not grateful."

Looking up at the two scientists, Leonardo asked, "Any progress?" Donatello spared him a glance before going back to his work. "We're nearly done. My only concern is that the potency is way less than what we gave Robert. Unless she manages to inhale every single molecule, we have no feasible hope of completely reversing the effects."

Hearing those words brought a frustrated sound from Raphael. "Donny, you got the more pacifist-type weapon. Get your butt out here and deal with her. _I'll_ help Leatherhead." Donatello gaped at him. "_You_? Raph, you've got to be kidding me." Leatherhead disagreed with him. "He does have a point, Donatello. If Miss Grayson becomes hostile once again, you _are_ far less likely to cause any open wounds and thus spread the virus. Besides, I am nearly done here."

Donatello reluctantly withdrew his bo and switched places with Raphael. Looking down at the girl whom he knew never felt wholly comfortable with mutants and was now one of them, he hoped that this would be settled nonviolently. Seeing her writhing on the ground, he couldn't see how it would be otherwise. "Allison, listen to me. I know it hurts. It's disorienting and frightening. But you need to pull yourself together long enough for us to help you. We've cured Robert; we're going to cure you, too-"

At the mention of Robert's name, Allison looked up at Donatello. "Rob… ert?" The sound of her voice relieved the turtle. "She's still capable of vocalization," he announced to the others. "Fantastic! This means she's-" The calm in his voice was cut off when Allison sddenly shifted into a crouched position, looking like she was getting ready to pounce. "This means she's not as far gone as you had thought," she finished for him. "You're right. She's gone even _further_."

With a startled gasp, Donatello stepped backwards as the thing that used to be Allison jumped for him. She was thrown off her course by Michelangelo's remaining nunchuck connecting with her stomach. Stumbling, she glared up at the normally lackadaisical turtle resolutely standing besides his brother. "Holy repossession, Batman," he commented. "Didn't I see this on some late-late-late night movie?"

"Donny," Leonardo called. "What's going on? Why is she so... intelligent?" With a dry laugh, the rat remarked, "I read a lot of books." She dove backwards, her hands picking up the pieces of the nunchucks she had broken before flipping onto her feet. Without even seeming to calculate it, she deftly swung and tossed the two pieces, one striking Leonardo in the face and the other one getting Michelangelo in the shin.

Both cried out in pain, and Donatello barely had time to register this before Allison lunged at him again. He quickly raised his bo as a shield, and the creature's jaws snapped shut on it. Unsure of whether he should try to wrench his weapon away or use it to push her backwards, Donatello fumbled for a moment before he said, "Allison, please don't make me hurt you." That said, he pulled the staff out of her grip and kicked her in the stomach just hard enough to push her away.

Donatello looked at Leonardo, who had a hand to his face. "Leo, you okay?" Leonardo looked up at him, a small welt becoming visible just below his left eye. He was about to answer that he was, but Michelangelo piped up. "Hey, did you forget that I got hit, too? What is this, Let's Care About Everyone But Forget About Mikey Day?"

The others didn't have time to react before Allison went for Michelangelo. He let out a surprised yelp before Donatello stepped in and jabbed her in the abdomen with his staff. She winced, then grabbed hold of the bo. The two played a macabre, short-lived game of tug-of-war with it before Allison told him in a singsong voice, "You can't hurt me, Don. Not where _I_ am." She suddenly swung the bo, causing Donatello to release his grip and collide with Michelangelo.

Weapon in hand, she faced Leonardo. Grimly staring her down, he unsheathed a katana. "I had hoped it would never come to this," he stated quietly. Twirling the bo as expertly as Donatello could, she told him, "That's a shame. Shattered hope and broken dreams. They seem to follow me around." She stopped her handiwork with the staff and readied herself for battle as Donatello cried, "Leo, careful! I think she's… she's insane! Everything that's been happening, it's caused such a shock to her system that now… now she's just…."

"In terms of Shakespeare," the creature clarified with what might have been a wry smile. "There is no method to my madness. Merely a madness behind my method. Genius does not breed insanity; it's the other way around. So the crazies have come out to play… and they play rough. It's playtime, Leo." Lowering her voice to something that could have sounded almost seductive, she asked, "Are you game?"

There was a moment of stillness before they jumped at one another.


	12. Chapter 12

"Ack! Where'd she learn the ninja skills?"

Donatello slowly shook his head at Michelangelo's query as he watched Leonardo and the creature that used to be Allison cross weapons. "I don't know," Donatello replied. "She does play a lot of video games and watches a lot of movies… maybe the fact that her body's now in a form that's much quicker and more agile is making it possible for her to copy these moves that she's been watching on the screen for years." Disbelievingly, Michelangelo queried, "You mean to tell me that if _I_ lose my shell, I'll be able to whup Jackie Chan's butt just because I've got a different body?"

Ignoring him, Donatello continued to mull over the situation. "Also," he added after a moment, "if she really _has_ gone crazy, then she's no longer inhibited by her sanity. Meaning… we're in huge trouble if we don't get her back to normal." Taking this in, Michelangelo asked, "So… what you're telling me is that before, she was Norman Osborn… and now, she's the Green Goblin?" Not wholly sure of what Michelangelo was talking about due to his focus being on Allison, Donatello nodded. "Whoa," Michelangelo breathed. "Guess _The Matrix _was right; freeing your mind _does _make anything possible. _Losing _your mind apparently helps, too."

"Allison," Leonardo grunted as Allison bore down on him with Donatello's staff. "Listen to me. Fight this madness. If you don't, it'll only destroy you." As he dove out of the way, causing Allison to stumble, she snarled, "I'll be destroyed anyway; may as well have some fun."

"You brought my master back to me," Leonardo continued to say. "You brought him back by reminding him of his honor. I have faith that I can do the same." With an annoyed growl, she screeched, "Stop being such a stick in the mud and _fight_, reptile!" She swung the bo at him once again, only to be surprised as Leonardo brought his sword down on it, cutting it in half.

As the rat stared dumbly down at her newly-splintered weapon, Leonardo put his sword down. "You're still the same person I exchanged Eastern philosophy with. You're still the same person that I protected last night and who I entrusted my brother to when he was injured. You're still the same person who blindly offered to help us in whatever way you could when my sensei went missing."

He was about to add more to that list when, without looking up, Allison released a roundhouse kick that caught him on the shoulder, knocking him down. Before he hit the floor, he managed to flip himself back onto his feet. As he righted himself, Leonardo caught sight of her diving for the broken piece of the staff. Grabbing hold of it, she held both pieces the way Leonardo would hold his two swords. She seemed to smirk as she told him, "And _you're_ still the same person who fights for honor while knowing that most of his opponents have none." She went for him again, and he was forced to unsheathe his other katana to hold her back. "You… are not… my opponent," he groaned as he slowly forced her backwards.

Leonardo parried her melee skills and kicked her in the stomach. Having been hit there numerous times since her mutation, she staggered backwards in pain. The stagger brought her right into the arms of Donatello, who pinned her arms behind her. "Go, Mikey!" Michelangelo rushed to his side, swiftly tying her arms and wrists with a heavy-duty rope he managed to find.

Enraged, Allison squirmed in the turtles' grasps. "Almost… there," Michelangelo murmured as he began to tie the ropes. "Hurry, Mikey," Donatello pleaded. "She's stronger than she-" His sentence cut off in a yell as Allison bucked him off of her, sending him flying through the air. "Don!" Leonardo called out, dropping his swords and holding his arms out to his brother. He lost his balance as Donatello landed against him, stunned but unhurt.

"Uh-oh," Michelangelo squeaked as Allison set her sights on him once again, her muscular arms snapping through the rope. "Why am I always left alone to fend against Ratzilla?" With a hiss, Allison leapt for Michelangelo, her paws encircling his throat. Looking up from his work with Leatherhead, Raphael exclaimed, "Mikey! Leatherhead, let's speed this up!"

"You don't wanna eat me!" Michelangelo tried to convince Allison as she snarled mere inches away from his face. "Remember what I was telling you about turtles being tough and bony? And I eat a lot of junk food, so I'm probably not all too good for you. Eat Leo! He eats lotsa fruits and veggies, so he's probably healthier more nutritious."

She seemed to take a deep breath, then remained motionless for a moment. "She's doin' it again," Raphael observed as she backed away slightly, her eyes dimming to their normal brown hue. "For some reason, she can't hurt Mikey." Hearing Raphael's words, Michelangelo offered Allison a hopeful grin. "Is it because I'm so heartbreakingly good-looking?"

Allison didn't respond for a moment before recoiling a bit from him. "M… Mike?" Instead of the cruelly clever voice that had been coming from the animalistic mouth, she uttered his name in her normal tone. Being encouraged by this, Michelangelo reached to remove her grip on his throat. "Right, bud. Mike. The one and only."

She continued to gape up at him, as though unclear as to how she had gotten there. She looked down at her hands that could no longer be rightfully called hands, and they began to shake. "Oh my God…" she whispered. "What… what have I…?" Michelangelo soothingly put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, no worries, bud. We're glad to have you back." Tears in her eyes, Allison threw her arms around him and began crying freely. Wary of her claws, Michelangelo attempted to pry her hands off of him. "Eep! We'll be a lot gladder once you get a manicure."

Leonardo and Donatello slowly stepped towards the pair. "Is she… is she all right?" Leonardo asked quietly. The sound of his voice caused Allison to tense up and back away from Michelangelo. "Go away," she yelled at the two approaching turtles. "Just get away from me!" Her voice becoming more and more high-pitched with every word, Michelangelo flinched. "Well, I guess we know which one of us is her favorite, huh?"

She turned away from them, clutching her head as though suffering from a migraine. "Allison," Leonardo offered. He tried to step towards her, but was stopped by Splinter's voice. "Keep away from her, Leonardo." He looked up to see Splinter standing by the entryway, gazing at the other rat guardedly. "I know that face all too well. It is the face of one who is waging a war for control over his own body."

"Mikey," Donatello said, "maybe you should stay close to her. She seems to calm down when she's near you." Michelangelo looked at his brother in shock. "Nuh-uh, not me, bro! Calm or not, she's still got claws and huge pointy, gnashing teeth! I'm not risking her getting a hankering for roast turtle!"

"Michelangelo," Leonardo warned, "this is serious. We can't risk her losing her grip again. Now is _not_ the time to act like a baby." Their discourse was interrupted by Donatello snapping his fingers. "Baby! That's it! Mikey's the one who's spent the most time with Rosalind! With her heightened sense of smell, Allison can pick up the baby's scent from him and regain her sanity!" Allowing a small amount of relief to enter his system, Leonardo said, "So she hasn't snapped. She's just a bit bent and needs to be straightened up."

"It's like that song," Michelangelo realized jovially. "'I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell. I know right now, you can't tell, but stay a while and maybe then you'll see-'" His singing was interrupted by Donatello urgently pulling at him. "Mikey, heads up!" Michelangelo hardly knew what happened as Donatello pulled him downwards, just missing a flying lunge from Allison. "Cripes," he muttered, seeing her land in a crouching position a few yards in front of him. "Does _she_ ever run hot and cold."

"Well, we've figured out Mikey's immunity," Leonardo said. "You know what this means." Looking at his brother, Donatello stated, "Time to exploit it like shell." That said, both turtles pushed Michelangelo forwards, right at the dark-furred rat that used to be their friend.

"Whoa!" Michelangelo called out. Stumbling to a stop just before Allison, Michelangelo murmured, "Oh man, it's times like this when I wish I were an only turtle." He managed to dodge a swipe of Allison's paws, then glared at her determinedly. "Okay bud. Take a whiff of _this_." He carefully leapt towards her, pinning her arms to her sides and bringing his face close to her. "This one's for mini-bud!"

Infuriated, Allison struggled in his grip, the red in her eyes fading in and out. Finally, her paws managed to grab hold of Michelangelo's elbows and squeezed tightly. With a gasp, he unwillingly loosened his grip, not wanting to be scratched and thus complicating things a whole lot more than they already were. With this leeway, Allison managed to pull away from him, grab hold of his arms, and swing him brusquely out of the way. "Yipes!"

Michelangelo's yell was punctuated by a series of crashes. Leatherhead and Raphael managed to jump out of the way just before the screaming turtle was hurled directly towards them, smashing numerous beakers and sensitive technical equipment. "My lab!" Donatello gasped. More concerned over his brother, Leonardo called, "Mikey!"

Donatello and Leonardo ran towards the others, but Leonardo was cut off by Allison swiftly stepping in front of him. "We still have business, _reptile_." Trying not to focus on what injuries Michelangelo or the others might have sustained, Leonardo raised a clench fist. "Why don't you just infect us and get it over with, turn the _rest_ of us into monsters with you?"

"Monster," she chuckled. "Monster, monster, monster. I've heard that before. The question still remains, though: what makes a monster? Physical deformities, social deviance, or some new-fangled genetic code?" She laughed again, long and sound, as though enjoying a very good joke. Leonardo tried to make his way around her, but the movement seemed to get rid of her mirth.

"I won't contaminate you," she explained as she blocked him once again. "Not now or ever. No, no contamination for you. For one, that would kill you, and it's no fun to just sit back and watch you twitch and die when I can sit on a couch and watch something like that in a movie. But also… also… if you get what I have, you'd be mindless. I might be out of my mind, but it's still there. You'd be like the roach, crawling around and trying to eat anything that moves, and that's no fun, either. See, me… I'm special." A small, wry giggle came from her mouth before she repeated, "Special. I'm not a normal human being." Looking down at her paws, she shrugged as she added, "Not anymore, anyway."

"Allison," Leonardo said as calmly as he could. "Remember Rosalind." The mention of the girl's name caused the rat to snap her head up, glaring at Leonardo. "Remember how scared you were for her in the van. Remember how much she means to you. Do you think she wants to see you like this? Do you think Robert would-"

"_Robert!_" Leonardo's words died away when Allison harshly yelled at him. "Don't you dare bring Robert into this. Don't you dare! It's _his_ fault I'm in this mess in the first place. _His_ fault! If it weren't for _him_ being the overprotective dolt that he is, my scent would've never rubbed off on him and I would've never had any rodents eating away at my apartment! If it weren't for _him _calling me because he never learned what to do when a baby has a fever, I'd be sitting at home with a _book_ right now, never knowing that a bunch of mutant _freaks_ lived out their lives underneath me!" With what sounded to Leonardo like a choked sob, she finished, "If it weren't for _him_ repeatedly turning me down because he didn't want a commitment, and then suddenly getting some girl pregnant and deciding I would make a good mother just when my career was taking off, _this wouldn't have happened_!"

Leonardo could do little else than stare at her as she stood there, trembling. It was then that he realized what had caused Allison to snap. After her mutation, she hadn't spoken until Donatello mentioned Robert's name, and this resentment she buried beneath her old love and current amity for him was just enough to drive her over the edge. He marveled over the part simple human emotion played in so many catastrophes.

"Where is he?" Leonardo regained his focus when he saw that Allison's paws were slightly raised, as though getting ready to tear through something. He also noted that her eyes were crimson red. If that were any indicator for how much control her darker half had, then Leonardo knew that he couldn't let her pass by to where Robert was.

"Allison," he told her sternly, slowly unsheathing a katana. "Calm down, or this will be very, very hard on the both of us." She didn't even bother directing her eyes towards him. "Where… is… he?" Her voice rose in pitch as she ran for him, her claws outstretched. Apparently, she no longer cared about the lack of "fun" that would result in infecting him. Leonardo took a deep breath and prepared himself for battle with a victimized, mad opponent.

He was spared the task of having to attack her when a wooden stick came out of what seemed like nowhere and hit her in the throat. She fell to her knees, gagging. Looking up, Leonardo saw Splinter step in front of him. "Go to your brothers, my son," he told Leonardo. "Michelangelo is in dire need of medical attention."

"But sensei-"

"You have done all you can. Go!"

Reluctantly, Leonardo sprinted towards the wreckage that used to be Donatello's lab. The smell of chemicals was unbearably strong. Michelangelo was lying on the ground, bleeding and unconscious. "Mikey!" Leonardo called, falling to his knees in front of his brother. Donatello was rummaging through a first-aid kit. "Easy, Leo," he said, sounding just as worried as Leonardo felt. "He's just badly cut up. I think the stench of the chemicals is what knocked him out." He removed a smelling salt from the kit and knelt next to Michelangelo. "At least, I hope so."

Allison let out a long, low growl as she slowly looked up at Splinter. "Out of my way," she commanded huskily. His eyes gravely fixed upon her, Splinter pointed his walking stick towards her. "Miss Grayson, I suggest you try a little harder to rid yourself of this demon that is plaguing you."

A single breathy laugh left her mouth as she got to her feet. "Demon? What demon? Don't waste my time, old rat!" She tried to dash past him, but she greatly underestimated Splinter's speed. "I may be your elder," he told her, "but that does not make me a less worthy adversary than my sons." Circling him, she responded, "Wise up, old timer. 'An arrow at the end of its journey is weak, so that it cannot even pierce thin silk.'"

"You are as well-versed in your proverbs as ever," Splinter remarked. "Then you may perhaps remember this one: 'Poke the flames and burn yourself.' In other words… play with fire, and you gonna get burned!" As Allison raised an eyebrow at his surprising vernacular, Splinter used his cane to trip her feet out from under her. Before she could flip back and regain her footing, he jumped for her, his feet landing on each of her paws, trapping them against the ground as he held his cane against her throat, keeping her pinned to the floor. "And remember," he added firmly, "always expect the unexpected."

She writhed beneath him, furious. "Get off of me!" Allison howled. Splinter managed to maintain his balance as she attempted to wrench her arms free from under him. "My apologies if I am aggravating your injuries," he told her, still believing that he could reach the girl that Michelangelo had brought to their lair the night before. "You seemed to be well enough to withstand the pain that would come from restraint." With a growl, Allison stated, "I'll teach you something about _pain_!"

With that, she brought her leg up violently, hitting Splinter in the back. He stumbled, and that single moment was all she needed to throw him off of her. Splinter fell onto his back and looked up to see Allison diving for him. He held up his cane to guard his face, but instead, she grabbed the stick and used it to harshly pull him up.

Once he lurched to his feet, she threw a punch at him. Splinter dodged, telling her, "Miss Grayson, please. You are not lost to us yet." One hand still on Splinter's cane, she tried again to hit him, missing. "You are too strong to lose to a mere virus." Frustrated, Allison tried again to swipe her claws at his head, but he took hold of her wrist and pulled it down. "You never _were_ an ordinary human being."

She gaped at him as he said those words, as though he had struck a chord. Splinter knew that he had to act quickly on this leverage, just as Allison herself did when she momentarily snapped him away from the Rat King's clutches at the mention of his honor. "Whatever you may have thought you were," he encouraged her, "you are far better than the majority of your peers. Few people would have the courage to befriend creatures that threaten their way of life, and even less would be willing to put their own lives on the line for such creatures in as many instances as you have. Your strength, your courage, your ability to adapt to the unpredictable—even though it may cost you your life or logic… these are the signs of a true warrior."

The younger rat made no move. Her eyes dimmed, but only slightly. Splinter could sense her processing these words, and he hoped for the best. "I believe," he quietly included, "that in these twenty-four hours, you have changed in more than physical appearance. When you look in the mirror, you will be able to see a young woman more comfortable with her identity than she has ever been before."

Without warning, the cane was yanked out of Splinter's grasp and thrown aside. "Look in the mirror?" Allison asked. "With a face like this?" Momentarily surprised by her sudden anger, Splinter was grabbed by the lining of his robe and grappled to the ground. "What kind of cruel joke is that? Thinking I'll be happy looking like something like _you_?" She raised an arm, and Splinter saw that her long claws were poised directly over him. "I see enough of my reflection just looking at _your_ face," she sneered. "Maybe I should do us _both_ a favor and just get rid of it." As she dropped her paw, Splinter raised his arms and closed his eyes, preparing himself to use all of his strength to push her away before she struck him.

Splinter was astounded when, instead of feeling her come down upon him, she seemed to recoil. Snapping his eyes open just as she let out a screech, he saw that Raphael had come up behind her. Splinter was aghast to see that his pupil was emptying a syringe into the struggling girl's neck. "Raphael!"

One of his arms encircled around Allison's torso to secure her arms to her sides, Raphael looked up at his sensei. "You okay, Splinter?" Splinter crawled out from under Allison, gaping at his student. "That needle… did you…?" The syringe drained, Raphael released Allison, letting her fall to the ground as she raised a paw to her neck. "Seein' her go for Mikey was one thing," Raphael explained, standing straight and looking thoughtfully at the needle in his hand. "But havin' her go after you forced me to take it up a notch."

Splinter looked down at the creature making noises of pain at Raphael's feet. He was clearly troubled by this and was about to say so when Leatherhead began walking towards them. "Do not fret so, Splinter. That is only another example of Raphael's theatricality." Splinter turned to look at the crocodile, seeing Leonardo helping Michelangelo to his feet at the lab. "What Raphael injected her with," Leatherhead explained, "was the cure. All that remains is to hope that it works to bring her completely back to her normal state."

Splinter calmed at Leatherhead's clarification, but it did not last for long. As the other turtles made their way towards them, Allison suddenly rose to her knees and pivoted, her razor-sharp claws sinking into Raphael's upper thigh. The turtle cried out in surprise and pain, stumbling backwards. His brothers cried out in horror. "No!" Leonardo cried, nearly dropping Michelangelo as he tried to dash towards Raphael.

"Raphael!" Splinter called, reeling forwards to pull Allison away. At his approach, Allison swung her arm backwards, sending the smaller rat flying. Stepping forward hurriedly, Donatello caught Splinter easily. "Sensei, are you all right?"

"This is terrible!" Leatherhead exclaimed. "If Raphael becomes contaminated-" He was cut off by Leonardo's frightened voice. "Don't even say it, Leatherhead. Don't you dare." His voice gravelly from his fall and loss of consciousness, Michelangelo murmured, "Bummer, dude. Raph's enough of a jerk as is. If he turns into a monster, we're all gonna get our shells waxed!"

Grimacing, Raphael stepped away from Allison, looking at the dark blood spurting out of his leg. "Lovely," he commented, his eyes meeting that of the dark-furred rat that was now making her way to her feet. "You yell at me about gettin' hurt, then ya go and pull somethin' like this!"

Though he refused to show it, Raphael was terrified. It wasn't dying that he was afraid of; it was the thought of him transforming into something worse than what Donatello had turned into and eradicating everyone in the room. Raphael knew that he had nearly hurt Leonardo and almost _killed_ Michelangelo during a few of his angry episodes. If he didn't die before he could do some serious damage…. _Kid_, he thought as Allison tackled him to the ground. _Maybe there's somethin' to your martyr thing after all._

She roared at him as she threw him to the ground, her hot breath hitting Raphael in the face. Someone hurried to their side and attempted to pry her off of him. Seeing a flash of blue and realizing that Allison was about to make a swipe at Leonardo's knees, Raphael fiercely grabbed hold of her arm, restraining it. "Leo, get outta the way!"

"Raph, I'll hold her down while you get out from under her!" Leonardo made another move for Allison, only to force Raphael to seize her other arm before she sliced his torso. "Get outta here," he commanded. "No sense in her cuttin' _you_ up, too!" Not paying heed, Leonardo put his arms around Allison, trying to pull her off of his brother. "Raph, if we don't get a look at your leg soon-"

"Leo, it don't matter _when_ you look at me!" Raphael pulled Allison back on the floor when he saw her turn her head, attempting to bite into Leonardo's shoulder. She yelped as she landed heavily besides him. Raphael spared a glance at Leonardo. "It's over. Either let her get rid 'a me herself or I'll figure out some way to go, cuz I _ain't_ going down after rippin' your shell off your back, got it?"

"Raphael," Leonardo said, trying to preserve his calm as he tried again to take hold of Allison's arms. "Now is _not_ the time to be fatalistic." Before he could touch her, Raphael kicked Leonardo's leg, causing him to totter backwards. "It's not bein' fatalistic if it's _true_! Now get away from her before she hurts ya!"

"I am afraid he is right," Leatherhead spoke sadly, stepping in behind Leonardo. "Back away before she infects you. The last of the serum was used on Miss Grayson; there is little we can do for Raphael if he is indeed contaminated." With a low growl of desperation, Leonardo attempted once more to grab at Allison, but Leatherhead's arms encircled his comparatively small body, immobilizing him. "There, there, my friend. I know it is hard, but I cannot allow you to rush blindly into this in the same way Raphael did."

"Hey, gimme a bit 'a credit, Leatherhead," Raphael said with a ghost of a smile as he continued to wrestle with the rat on the ground. "I thought things through before grabbin' the cure offa ya, didn't I?"

"You mean _you_ were the one who decided that you'd go after her with the cure?" Leonardo screamed incredulously as he struggled in the crocodile's grasp. "Raph, what were you thinking? You knew that any injury you sustained from her was likely to kill you! That was reckless and idiotic and-"

"Hey, what'd I tell you about the next time you yelled at me over somethin' stupid, fearless leader?" Leonardo was _not_ happy with Raphael's flippant attitude, and this was evident in how visibly flustered he was. Seeing that Leonardo couldn't form the words, Donatello asked, "But Raph, why? Why'd you go and inject her when you knew she was likely to lash out at you?" Michelangelo joined in with, "Yeah, you don't gotta be Donny to figure out that sticking a pointy thing at a crazy mutant rat with super strength is probably gonna earn ya your very own coffin."

Raphael remained silent as he looked over the fighting creature that used to be Allison. Had he considered her a friend? Most likely. He cared about her in the way he naturally cared for most of the people he came across, especially the ones who accepted him and his brothers for what they were. But there was also something slightly different about her. She always managed to get in over her head. She always managed to choose one of two extremes. And she always managed to jump blindly into the fray, sacrificing life and limb. There was something oddly… familiar about her.

Finally, without looking at the others, Raphael managed to roll onto one knee, still holding her down as she continued to snap. "Hey," he said quietly. "Any 'a you guys ever risked your life for a single person in this room?" He allowed the rhetorical question to hang in the air before he finished, "Then none 'a you got a right to question who or what I risk _my_ life for. Capisce?"

Leonardo was taken aback. Raphael… listening to someone? Not only listening… but _quoting_ her? Raphael never listened to anyone. As he ceased his resistance against Leatherhead's grip, Leonardo wondered over what this girl had done in order to quickly earn this smidge of respect from Raphael. Though they would never talk about it, the others all speculated over the same thing.

Allison sat up, still fighting against Raphael's hold on her. "Whatsamatter?" Raphael asked, noticing the series of snarls that came from her mouth. "Cat got your tongue? Or you just runnin' outta pearls 'a wit?" She didn't answer, and Raphael realized that she hadn't said an intelligible word since he administered the serum Leatherhead made, and that she was also far weaker than he had expected. Hopefully, this meant that the cure would work at least enough to bring the old Allison back, even if she couldn't regain her original form. Raphael became conscious of a vague sense of disappointment that he may not be around to see that.

She suddenly darted to her feet, forcing Raphael to rise unsteadily to his own. He thought for a moment that his vision must have been blurring, but he soon comprehended that it was not. Her fur seemed to be falling off. _It's working_, he grasped. He flinched as her angry growls turned into screams of pain as her body began reshaping itself. Distantly realizing that the others behind him seemed to be rejoicing at this change over her, Raphael did something he hadn't thought he would do.

Pulling her close to him, he embraced the squirming rat that was on its way to becoming a woman again. "Do me a favor," he requested, hoping the others wouldn't overhear him. "If I don't make it through this, I want ya to know that I listened to everything you said. Every last word. And despite the fact that you remind me 'a Leo sometimes, I think we coulda been pretty good friends. Just… stop tryin' to be what you think people expect, and just keep bein' _you_. Because I liked that person the few times I got to see her. Got that… Allison?"

At the mention of her name, Allison looked up at him, her eyes still wracked with pain. Raphael realized that it was the first time he actually called her by her name. Seeming to share some kind of nonverbal communication, the two of them simply looked at one another as more of her fur seemed to drip off, slowly revealing her actual body.

"And this is the part where Beauty and the Beast live happily ever after," Michelangelo commented, "at least until the Beast turns into Even Uglier Beast, after which everyone who's just standing around gawking gets _skewered_!" The others paid no heed to Michelangelo's words. If Leatherhead's calculations were correct, then they were not in any mindset to make jokes about what may be Raphael's last few moments.

At length, Allison's brown eyes squeezed shut in pain as her snout and tail began to disappear. She hid her face in Raphael's shoulder, and he felt a rare surge of compassion when he could feel her flesh shifting against him. He was aware that he was blocking her from the view of Splinter, Leatherhead, and the other turtles, but soon enough realized that that was just as well.

Just as the others began to grow uneasy, especially knowing that Raphael's time after the initial infection was short, Raphael turned to look at them over his shoulder. "Hey," he told them. "Someone wanna gimme a blanket or somethin'? I don't think she'd like it if I paraded her naked to a bunch 'a mutants." He turned slightly, and they could see Allison's unconscious face against him, looking just as she did all of the other times she had passed out in their presence.

With a grateful laugh, Leatherhead stepped forward, offering his lab coat.


	13. Chapter 13

Allison managed to very slowly open her eyes.

Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly move her tongue. Blinking a few times, she tried to sit up and realized that she was too sore to really move. Her eyes looking over her surroundings, she realized that she was back in her bedroom. _No way am I gonna fool myself this time_, she told herself. _Just when I believe it's a dream, I'll reach over and feel some bandages, and then find a sleeping turtle lying next to me._

Ignoring the tenderness she felt in her limbs, Allison clenched her right hand, feeling for the bandages from her initial rat bite. Looking down, she was stunned to see that there were none. More importantly, there was no bite. She held her right hand in her left, then marveled over the fact that she no longer felt the throbbing from having been hit by the golf club. _What the-? What's going on?_

She raised a hand to her chest, meaning to feel for the bruise from Splinter's kick. _Could it be… could it have been one really, really long and realistic dream? _She felt a pang of discontent at the thought that her imagination was so vivid that it created the most unforgettable individuals she had ever known.

Her hand at her chest, Allison became aware of the fact that she was wearing something unfamiliar to her. Looking down, she saw that her arm was practically lost in a white mass of fabric that acted as a sleeve. Pulling at her collar, she saw that she was completely naked beneath a large white material fashioned into a jacket of sorts. _It… it looks almost like a… like a lab coat._

The thought brought back an image of the large mutant crocodile she had met in the sewers. Hoarsely, she murmured, "L… Leatherhead?" She was surprised to hear a familiar voice at the doorway. "Nope. It's… Botticelli."

Allison tried to raise her head to look up, but found that she didn't need to. Donatello slowly approached her, his eyes flooding with relief. "It's been a while, Allison. Welcome back." Lifting her hand to her head, Allison asked, "Did I… go somewhere?" Donatello looked at her curiously.

Try as she might, Allison could not remember the events that led to her being back in her apartment. She remembered being very concerned over Robert and holding Rosalind tightly. She remembered waking up besides Raphael on more than one occasion. She remembered a lot of running, a lot of crying, and a lot of hard decisions being made after being introduced to the crocodile version of Donatello. After that, however, the details became more and more hazy.

After seeming to contemplate how much he should tell her, Donatello responded, "You were… not all there for a while. The stress, I think. It got to you." Her head beginning to clear, Allison could see that Donatello seemed to be tiptoeing around the truth. "Donatello… I didn't… _do_ anything… did I?"

Donatello shifted uncomfortably before gingerly sitting on the bed. He put a hand over Allison's and lowly told her, "You were sick. You got a very dangerous virus that could have cost you your life, along with the lives of anyone you might've infected. Thanks to some quick thinking and a few… risks… we got rid of it. I've been monitoring you for a few days now, and it looks like the virus completely left your system."

"A few _days_?" Allison tried to sit upright and flinched, allowing Donatello to gently lay her back down. "You mean I was out for _days_?" In a soothing voice, he replied, "Yes. Three nights. Tonight will make the fourth one since you've been cured. You must be hungry. I'll go get you something to eat."

He tried to leave, but Allison took hold of his hand and kept him besides her. "Donatello… tell me… tell me everything." He looked at her levelly before answering, "I think you might be better off not knowing some things, Allison." Without releasing him, she said, "Well, I think you're wrong."

Never being one to enjoy being called "wrong," Donatello hesitantly complied. Leaving out a few details, he told her about the outbreak virus she had acquired from Robert, and how she had given him the majority of the cure. Her recent exposure to rats must have done something to trigger her mutative form, and he and Leatherhead worked diligently on a weaker batch of the cure while the others kept her occupied. Eventually, Raphael managed to inject her with the serum and restore her back to normal. Like Robert, she was exhausted and fell into a deep sleep, though she was unconscious for far longer than he was. "Apparently," he finished, "your body needed more time to recuperate from all of the other injuries it acquired. Your mutation out of and back into your human form _did_ seem to heal all of your other wounds, though, which is utterly fascinating."

Allison eventually released his hand, taking in all that he told her. At length, she asked, "What about Robert? And the baby? Are they all right?" Donatello explained, "Once Leatherhead and I ran tests on him to be sure he was fully cured, we took him back to April's place. He woke up the next afternoon, completely worn out and unable to remember much of anything that happened after he left your apartment that morning. April told him that he was attacked by some street punks and that she and her friend found him outside and brought him and the baby in to stay the night. She drove him and Rosalind back to their place. April says he was pretty shaken up, but otherwise all right. He's called a few times since we've been here, so I'm guessing he's feeling better."

"…what about Splinter and your brothers? Where are they?"

"Well," Donatello stated, "the lair was pretty smashed up, but not completely beyond repair. They're working on rebuilding as we speak. Leo decided that it was best that I stay here until you and Raph got better." Silence filled the air for a moment, and Donatello realized he said something he shouldn't have. After some time, Allison finally asked, "Raphael?"

"Oh yeah," Donatello added sheepishly. "I forgot to mention that Raphael got a little… hurt… again." Allison bolted upright, ignoring the soreness that screamed throughout her body. "Hurt? How'd he get hurt? What happened?" Donatello told her to calm down, eventually conceding to tell her the truth. "When you were in your mutated form, you swiped at Raphael just after he gave you the cure. Caused him a pretty bloodied gash along his upper leg. Because this version of the outbreak was so powerful, and Raphael's genes are already mutated to begin with, we had feared that introducing this strain of the virus into his body would kill him in a matter of hours."

"Oh God," Allison interrupted. "Oh God, is… is he okay? I didn't… did I…?" Alarmed by how upset Allison had become, Donatello gently wiped at the tears beginning to overflow her eyes. "Hey, no. No, don't worry. He's fine. Apparently, the first thing that the cure affected was the contagion factor. He got the flu-like symptoms that most victims of the outbreak do—the nausea, headaches, stuffy nose—but it looks like the virus was already too weak by the time you scratched him to actually alter his genetic structure. He was a bit hostile and ill-tempered for a couple of days, but… it's Raph. That sort of thing is normal."

After becoming certain that Donatello was telling the truth, Allison allowed herself to fall back into a laying position. Breathing hard, she put a hand to her chest as she closed her eyes and said a silent, thankful prayer. When she opened her eyes again, Donatello's face was looking down at her. "You're… fond of him, aren't you?"

Not sure what he meant by that, Allison answered, "I'm fond of all of you." Donatello shook his head. "No, I mean… never mind." He was about to turn away when Allison called after him. "Donatello… he's my friend. I owe him my life, just like I owe it to the rest of you. That kind of debt isn't easily repaid."

His face maintaining a quiet sort of good humor, Donatello said, "It's just… the way you talk, about honor and repaying debts and all that sort of thing… I just would have thought that you were better-suited for Leo." Allison blinked as the turtle turned his back on her, walking towards the doorway. It took her a while before she realized what he had been getting at. "What! No! Donatello… how can you… how can you think that?"

Donatello stopped at the door and looked back at her, a strange smile on his face. "Hey, what else am I led to think when a 'friend' risks the chance of mutating to the point of death just to save another 'friend?'" Not quite comprehending, Allison told him, "I did that for _Robert_." With a soft laugh, Donatello left the room as he reminded her, "And Raphael did that for _you_."

Dumbstruck as she was left alone in the room, Allison lay back and stared at the ceiling. _Surely Raphael knew that he wouldn't have gotten the virus after he gave me the injection, right? He wouldn't do something so unbelievably stupid, would he?_ As she closed her eyes, she remembered that this was _Raphael_, and so she couldn't count on him not making rash decisions.

_For being the smart one_, she thought as she nestled back against her pillow, _Donatello sure got _that_ wrong. Me and Raphael. Pfft._ A small smile on her lips, Allison thought of how odd the concept of Raphael caring for a woman seemed to her. _Besides me not even being a member of his species, that jerk and I have nothing in common. There's no way I could've cracked that shell in only a few days… most of which I haven't even been conscious for._

As she thought more on it, she found herself worrying over the turtle, in much the same way she had been doing all along. Had Donatello been leaving more details out? Did she nearly sever Raphael's leg? Just the thought of her being this monster that would be hotheaded enough to go after _Raphael_ struck her as unbelievable. What must he have thought about her?

A small smile on her face, Allison thought of what Donatello would have to say if he knew that she wondered what Raphael thought of her mutation. _More fuel to the fire_, she thought absently. In the back of her mind, she heard a familiar voice. _"To put out a fire, one must refrain from giving it more fuel."_ _Who said that? And why?_ A sense of déjà vu overwhelming her, Allison figured that it must have been something someone said to her during her mutated state. _Sounds like something Splinter would say._

Allison tried to remember how the virus got into her system in the first place. Donatello told her that Robert had given it to her, but how did _he_ get it? Was it something in the sewers? She recalled it being referred to as "Bishop's outbreak" a few times, and recollected Leatherhead mentioning something about Bishop being a human. Some scientific experiment gone horrible awry, perhaps? _Why am I remembering Area 51 being mentioned? _A chill went through her spine as she continued to wonder what she may have done while infected and what would have happened to the turtles if Raphael hadn't taken the risk to cure her.

It wasn't very long before she felt someone else's presence in the room. Opening her eyes, she saw Raphael putting a tray down on her nightstand. Surprised to see him walking after the injury she had heard about, Allison ignored her pain once again and sat up. "Raphael!"

Without looking at her, he put a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from getting up. "Don't ya even _think_ about movin' from that bed," he ordered her. "I ain't above tyin' ya down." His voice sounded somewhat congested, but he otherwise seemed normal. Leaning back against the headboard of her bed, she looked down to see a large bandage tied around his right thigh, matching the clean bandage over his left shoulder.

"You know," she told him as he picked up a glass of water from the tray and sat on the edge of the bed, "most guys don't end up walking around and throwing threats after being shot in the chest and sliced through the leg." Giving her the glass and repressing a wince as he adjusted his leg, Raphael replied, "Well, I woulda thought you knew by now that I ain't exactly like most guys."

She slowly reached out a hand for the water. Raphael noticed the stiffness in her arm, so moved closer to her and put the glass to her lips. Gingerly wrapping a hand around the glass, Allison looked up at him as she drank. She saw that, even against his deep green skin, he had dark circles under his eyes. Though his eyes were still sharp as he made sure she didn't drop the glass, it was clear that he was exhausted. Allison couldn't help wondering if he had rested at all in the past four days.

Putting the glass down, she bluntly told him, "You look terrible." Raphael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well _you_ ain't no supermodel yourself." He looked down at her body, then looked away, vaguely uncomfortable. "Especially not in a jacket that can fit ten 'a ya." Looking down, Allison was horrified to see that the lab coat was so large that it was mostly open, exposing her chest. With a fierce blush, she quickly snapped it closed. Taking the glass out of her hand before she dropped it, Raphael informed her, "It's a bit late for that, y'know. It's not like you were wearin' anythin' when ya changed back."

Aghast, Allison asked, "You mean you… you saw me…?" Raphael looked up at her. "Hey, don't look so creeped out. _I'm _the one who had to see you and your buddy Robert in your skivvies before we got somethin' on ya, okay?" Still blushing, Allison looked down, wrapping the coat around her even tighter. "Besides," Raphael added, "I was the only one who saw ya."

Allison looked up at him. How could he have been the only one? She had a hazy memory of his voice close to her ear, and wondered if he had actually shielded her from view. Though the sentiment was polite enough, she asked him, "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Already irritated, Raphael shot back with, "Hey, it coulda been worse. Can you imagine that peabrain Mikey with a naked chick in his arms? Or would ya have preferred it bein' Leo or Donny?" A headache already brewing because of his eruption, Allison simply mumbled, "No, I… no. I seem to be closest to you, anyway."

Raphael said nothing, and Allison wondered if her words introduced a sense of awkwardness. Finally, he spoke up, "Yeah, speakin' 'a close, your pal Rhys has been leavin' ya messages over the past couple 'a days."

"Oh?"

"He says he's tryin' to get in touch with you about this new project," Raphael informed her, reaching over for the tray he had set down. "Somethin' involvin' some guy named David somethin'." Allison blinked. "Koepp? David Koepp?" Raphael looked up at her as he began pouring cereal into a bowl. "Yeah. I'm guessin' it's good news?" Amazed, Allison told him, "David Koepp is one of the best-known screenwriter/directors in the city. He specializes in sci-fi, thrillers, horrors… exactly what I'm into. I've been trying to get an appointment with him for months!"

Putting milk into the bowl, Raphael nodded contemplatively. "Ya might wanna call Rhys soon, then. He's called about three times." Worried about a potential promotion slipping through her fingers, Allison tried to jump out of bed to get to the phone. She didn't even manage to throw her legs out of the bed before Raphael's arm encircled her and he pulled her back towards him. "Later, though. Now, you eat."

Allison tried to pull away from him, pleading for release. Unmoved, Raphael kept her against him until she ran out of steam. "If ya think I'm gonna let ya talk business right after ya wake up from a three-day nap, then you're even more of an idiot than I thought. Do somethin' smart for once and eat."

Too tired to put up much of a struggle, Allison remarked, "I thought you don't play nurse for anyone." Turning her around so that she faced him, Raphael responded, "I ain't playin' nurse. I'm playin' 'feed-the-moron-before-she-passes-out-again.'" Readjusting the lab coat, Allison looked into the bowl Raphael held in his hands. "Frosted Flakes? Talk about nutritious." At her sarcastic remark, Raphael smiled and offered her a spoonful of cereal. "It ain't no Honey Nut Cheerios, but it gets the job done."

Uncomfortable with the prospect of being fed, Allison took the spoon from him and began eating. She was somewhat amused by the fact that he watched her guardedly as she ate, as though the weight of the spoon would prove to be too much for her. She once again noticed how exhausted he appeared. She shifted over and reached for the bowl. "Maybe _you_ should be the one getting some rest, Raphael." Raphael laughed bitterly in response. "Don't worry about me." She asked how much sleep he had gotten, and he neglected to give her a straight answer.

Allison was surprised to hear Donatello's voice at the doorway. "Sleep? What makes you think he got any sleep?" Raphael flinched at the sound of his brother's voice. "Can it, geek," he warned. Stepping into the room, Donatello told Allison, "I've hardly seen him close his eyes since we brought you back here. When he's not in one of his 'moods,' then he's been sitting at your desk, wondering when you were going to wake up."

Shocked, Allison returned her eyes to Raphael. He seemed to hunch his head between his shoulders, sulking. "I didn't wanna be waitin' for ya to wake up if you were already a corpse," he clarified. "That's all!" Unsure of what to say or do, Allison looked back up at Donatello. He sat at her window sill, a small smirk on his face. _Whoa,_ Allison thought. _Either Donatello's trying really hard to play Cupid, or he and Raphael had an interesting conversation while I was out. _"Right," was all she managed to say.

Silence hung in the air, and Donatello decided to rectify it by telling Raphael, "Just talked to Leo. He and Mikey just got done trashing all of the junk from the blasts and everything. After all's said and done, the damage wasn't too bad, though a couple of downed walls mean that you and Mikey now share one really, really big room." Raphael groaned, sulking even more. "Great. Just great. I'm almost willin' to play up the bandages in hopes that bozo won't try to annoy me too much."

Allison ate in silence as the brothers began talking about their general housekeeping aims once they return to their lair. She kept her eyes mostly trained on Raphael. _He's not looking at me,_ she realized. _I can't tell if that's due to embarrassment or to him being Raphael._ She wondered what Donatello saw that she was apparently blind to. _Ridiculous. He's just my friend. And I don't even think he really considers me a friend at all-_

Her thoughts were cut off as she suddenly recalled Raphael's gruff voice telling her, _"I think we coulda been pretty good friends."_ _No… no way… there's no way that he could _stand_ me, let alone…. "…keep bein' _you_. Because I liked that person the few times I got to see her."_

Allison almost dropped the bowl in her hands. She couldn't remember him actually saying those words, but they played in her head nonetheless. She remembered being held by him… was she naked by then? "Hey, Allison," Donatello said, concerned, "you okay? You're getting flushed."

She looked up at the two turtles, who were now eyeing her anxiously. Raphael took the half-eaten cereal from her and set it on the tray. "This better not be a stinkin' relapse, Donny," he murmured. "Cuz if it is, I'm pushin' _you_ in front 'a her instead!" Allison shook her head as Donatello made his way to her. "No," she told them. "No, it's all right. I was just… uh….." Searching for something to say, she blurted out, "I was just thinking about Robert."

Donatello stood in front of her, not quite believing her. "Rob's fine, like I said. The last message he left was last night at around 10:30. He said he had a bizarre dream… something about a little green man telling him that he's an astronaut." Raphael laughed, "Heh, can't wait to tell Leo that he's been ID'd as a 'little green man.'" Donatello looked down at him as he went to pick up Allison's tray. "You can tell him in a few minutes. He's on his way over in the battle shell to pick us up."

Blinking in surprise, Raphael asked, "Pick us up? But I thought…." He looked at Allison, as though proving a point. Beginning to walk away with the tray, Donatello said, "I told him Allison was conscious and looked like she was completely healed. There's no reason for us to stay if she doesn't need us. Unless, of course, you _want_ to stay." He added the last bit with another smile, earning him a dirty look from Raphael. "Don't be a chump, nerd boy."

Donatello kept goading him, causing Raphael to lose his temper. "Raphael," Allison said cautiously. "Leave him alone." Raphael obliged moodily, causing Donatello to open his mouth with another observation. "You too, Donatello," Allison told him. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but stop it."

He looked up at her, his face still filled with a knowing humor. "Don't mind me," he told her. "Just some scientific hypotheses that I'm working on. Maybe you should ask Raph for an explanation, if you're really curious." With that, he left the room and pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Allison and Raphael alone.

Perplexed, Allison asked, "Raphael?" There was no response. "Raphael, what's he talking about?" Raphael looked away huffily. "Nuthin'. Jeez, a guy says one stupid thing when he's talkin' crazy durin' a fever, and that dork won't let 'im live it down." Her curiosity growing, she asked him what he had said. He refused to answer at first, telling her that he couldn't even remember most of it.

"I think what he's so hung up over," he finally relented, "is that I couldn't be the killswitch. I didn't mind riskin' gettin' infected, but I wanted to make sure that ya weren't gonna die on me." He paused for a long time before defensively throwing in, "But that's just all 'a that 'honor' business that Splinter's been drillin' into my head all these years, so don't even try makin' any 'a the annoyin' comments that Donny's been makin'!"

Allison looked at Raphael for a long time, her expression softening. _Well,_ she thought, _if nothing else, I at least know he has a heart._ Thinking it over, she leaned over towards Raphael and hugged him. "Thanks Raphael," she told him softly. "Even if it was only about honor, it means a lot to me."

He stiffened for a moment, then allowed himself to put a hand on her back in a self-conscious half-embrace. "Right," he said after a pause. "Nice to see that _someone_ appreciates the crap I go through for them without turnin' it into a soap opera." With a small half-smile, she informed him, "I still want to know what it was that you said that would make the logical one attempt to play a green Cupid." Exasperated, Raphael tried to pry her off of him, but realized that her arms were wrapped securely around him. "Crud," he grumbled. "You and your Grip 'a Death." She laughed against his shoulder, but offered no other reaction.

There was silence. Then, "You remind me 'a me." His words were low and hesitant. Allison realized that he had permitted his entire arm to go around her as he spoke. "Somethin' about your life, it reminds me 'a me. The 'screw-it-all' attitude ya told me about before your mom died. 'N then, when Master Splinter was taken by the Rat King, I wondered if somethin' like that would happen to me; if I'd miss seein' him 'cuz I was so much of a hothead that I got myself too hurt to go 'n look for 'im. 'N if somethin' _did _happen to him, I wondered if I was gonna be like you—if I was gonna change who I was, become someone like Leo, because my attitude cost me my father. I seen somethin' like that happen to Leo. He brought himself back… but I dunno if I'd be able to do the same."

Allison took this in quietly, not wanting to ruin this moment of him actually opening up. Had something like this happened before? She couldn't quite remember…. "Then there was the dream in April's place," Raphael brought up. It was then when Allison recalled the vague feeling she had had as Raphael told her about his nightmare, how she had felt that he was trying to say something more important than her drug-induced mind was able to wrap around.

"I kept copying after the people that died, takin' over their personalities as though that would bring 'em back somehow. And it worked for a while, but somethin' about _my_ personality always cost someone else their life. I began thinking… maybe I _should_ change. Maybe I'm too much of a hothead for my own good… or the good 'a others. But then… then…. Then ya told me that you'd sleep better if I was around… because ya felt safe with me." He let out a single breathy laugh as he told her, "No one's ever felt safe with me before. No one's ever told me so, anyway."

Allison allowed a pause before she was about to speak, but Raphael beat her to it. "I guess I just felt like I had to look after ya, y'know? That's all. And when a guy's talkin' crazy talk, that kinda thing doesn't come out right. So Donny just… he read too much into it. That's all."

She backed away just enough to be able to look at him. The turtle's face was no longer the tensed ball of nerves it usually was. He gazed back at her, as though awaiting a response from her. _Is that really all?_

Granted, Allison couldn't think of what she would have done that could have endeared her to Raphael, and Donatello's teasing now made her overly-suspicious, but…. _He said "that's all" _twice_. When people repeat themselves it usually means…._

She couldn't finish her line of thought, as she saw a shadow dart by the window from the corner of her eye. Startled, she let go of Raphael and turned to look at the glass just as Michelangelo appeared on the ledge. With a grin, he gently tapped on the window with one of his nunchucks. "Great," Raphael mumbled in his customary bitter tone. "Just what this circus needs. A couple 'a clowns."

Making sure the large lab coat was secure over her body, Allison slowly stood up and began to walk towards the window to let Michelangelo and the barely-visible Leonardo in. Though her steps were slow, she was happy to realize that she was nowhere near as bad as she had feared. She could walk without assistance, and felt as though she had simply had a very long and intense workout. As she opened the window, Allison felt that a hot shower should make her feel leagues better.

Agilely jumping into her room, Leonardo looked up at her. "It's good to hear that you're all right, Allison." She was about to thank him when he was pushed out of the way by Michelangelo. "Bud! You're alive! Aliiiiiivvvee- ack!" His monster-movie line was interrupted by a sharp tug at his arm from Leonardo. "This way, Lugosi."

As the three brothers united by Allison's bed, the girl turned to her dresser and searched for something to throw on. _Even if they're going to leave soon,_ she reasoned, _it'd be nice to say goodbye to them without having to clutch this tent closed. _Leonardo and Michelangelo were busy fussing over the irritable Raphael, who spared her a glance as she ducked into her bathroom and closed the door behind her, hoping they wouldn't leave.

In the bathroom, she looked up at the air duct over her toilet. Brand new screws shone from them, showing that Donatello (or perhaps Raphael) had repaired the damage done by the rats. Letting the jacket fall to the floor, she looked into the mirror. Though her hair was a mess, she smiled when she saw that the bruises from the very first attack were faded away, along with the one to her chest from Splinter's hard kick. _I've changed_, she realized. _It's strange, but after meeting the turtles, now that I'm healthy, I…._

"_When you look in the mirror, you will be able to see a young woman more comfortable with her identity than she has ever been before."_

Splinter's voice rang in her head loud and clear. _It's true. _The façade was gone. When she was with the turtles, she no longer had to feel as though she had to be this carefully-constructed person to get them to stay with her. She wasn't quite sure who she was anymore, but she wasn't afraid of finding out. Quickly throwing on her clothes, she told herself, _From now on, I'm going to make sure that the person staring at me in my reflection is actually _me_. I was an idiot to think that I could make things better otherwise._

Running a hand through her tangled hair, she smiled as she turned to rejoin the turtles.


	14. Chapter 14

"Lovin' the bedhead look, bud."

Allison grinned at Michelangelo's comment, pulling her hair away from her face. The four turtles were sitting in her living room as Donatello finished packing up the medical bag he had left in her apartment. "Thanks Mikey," she said with a small laugh. "I was thinking about cutting it, though. Long hair never _was_ my thing."

"Well, that's all of _my_ stuff," Donatello remarked, slinging the bag on. "Anyone else left anything here?" Pointing at Michelangelo, Raphael teased, "No, but I vote to leave Mikey behind." Crossing his arms over his chest, Michelangelo replied, "Oh, very funny, _roomie_. Just wait 'til Donny fixes my sound system. Then we'll see how many 'yucks we get outta you." With a small growl, Raphael told him, "Donny ain't goin' within ten yards 'a your stupid sound system, got that?"

As the two brothers began to argue with Donatello somehow thrown in between the two of them, Leonardo stepped up to Allison. "Do I even need to apologize for them," he asked, "or are you already familiar enough with Raphael's disposition to expect this?" Allison barely managed to repress a smirk as she answered, "I think I know more about Raphael's disposition than I ever needed to know."

Leonardo nodded, then inquired, "Is there anything else you need from us before we go, Allison?" Allison pretended to think for a moment before responding, "Well, some contact info would be nice. I don't really expect to fall into a sewer drain and find myself back in your lair for a chat." The turtle seemed surprised. "I didn't think you'd _want_ to continue contact with us. We're not exactly conducive to your desire for normalcy."

"Normal?" Allison raised an eyebrow. "What's normal? Taking my personality and hiding it under layers of societal-manufactured superficiality? No… I'm through with that phase, Leonardo. Thanks to you." Recognizing the change that had come over her, Leonardo smiled. "Besides," Allison threw in, "I do recall someone offering me some martial arts training, and going to a dojo in the city is _way_ too expensive for someone on my salary."

As Leonardo laughed, Michelangelo broke away from his argument with Raphael. "That's right! And _I _remember that Maxi, Kilik, and Taki were up for a little challenge on my GameCube. No way are you gonna chicken out on me!"

"All right," Leonardo agreed good-naturedly. "So I guess it's settled. Donny, leave her April's address. We don't exactly have a post office box." Donatello took out a notepad and pen from his bag, signaling agreement. "Right. And in case my server is still working after the blasts, I'll leave you my e-mail address, too." Peering over Donatello's shoulder as he scribbled, Michelangelo pouted, "Hey, how come you don't hook the rest of us up with some e-mail? The gamer in me's just dying to try my hand at some of the games on the 'net, and I can't get to too many of 'em without one." At that, Raphael smirked, "Pshaw. Mikey on the Internet? I foresee a worldwide network failure. Technological Armageddon." Donatello shivered as he ripped the page with the contact information from his pad. "Please, Raph, don't even joke about something like that. It's my worst nightmare."

With that, he stood and his brothers followed his lead. "Guess it's time to get going." Michelangelo looked behind him, at the living room. "Yeah, and with comfortable couches and a DVD collection like this, you can _bet_ I'm gonna be spending some time here. Man, didn't think I'd ever meet anyone who owned a copy of _Rose Red_. I don't suppose I can borrow it?" With a laugh, Allison allowed it, and the excited teenager ran for her DVD shelf with a "Woo-hoo!"

Turning, Allison slowly walked to the front door and began unlocking it. She couldn't help but stifle more laughter as Michelangelo "oohed" and "ahhed" over her DVDs. It was at that moment when she remembered about Raphael telling her about her phone call from Rhys and about her hopeful meeting with a very influential screenwriter/director. With any luck, the next batch of movies to accumulate on her shelf would be her own. She could only imagine Michelangelo's enthusiasm when _that_ happened.

Reminding herself that this wouldn't be the last time she would see this group of mutants that changed her life, Allison opened the door and turned back to them. "There's a back stairway two doors down that'll take you to the basement if you're worried about being seen." Leonardo nodded at her words. "We had Casey park the battle shell right at the back door. Hardly a soul in sight. Probably our entrance of choice for future visits." Encouraged by the mention of "future visits," Allison smiled as Donatello stepped in front of her.

Handing her the slip of paper, he said, "Here. Try my e-mail later tonight just to see if it works. If it doesn't, April's antique shop is the surest way to get any kind of message to us." Taking the note, Allison thanked him as he peered out into the hallway. Seeing no one, he looked back, winked at her, and dashed for the stairway mentioned.

Leonardo came next, listening for any sounds in the hallway. Hearing nothing, he turned his attention to Allison. "Splinter sends his regards, by the way," he told her. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see a new student come around every so often." Beaming down at him, Allison replied, "It's an honor, Leonardo." Both were surprised to see the other bow in farewell before Leonardo went out to join his brother.

Michelangelo approached her, toting an armful of DVDs. "Hope you don't mind, bud," he said with a grin, "but I found a couple of other titles that I've been meaning to get around to seeing. Once I figure out how to hijack Donny's DVD burner—which should totally be _mine_—I'll bring 'em back. The way I see it, it's like collateral to make sure we keep in touch, right?" Allison chuckled, realizing now more than ever that the turtles were little more than boys. "Right, Mike," she giggled. "Just collateral." He suddenly snapped his fingers, saying, "That reminds me: _Collateral_, that Schwarzenegger flick. I saw it on your shelf; is it any good?"

Michelangelo didn't get an answer, as he was being pushed out the door by Raphael. "Jeez, Mikey, she ain't Blockbuster." Grabbing hold of the doorframe to avoid being pushed completely away, Michelangelo smirked back at Raphael. "Heh, you're probably just itchin' to bid a sweet adieu, ain't ya, bro?" At Raphael's harsh snarl, Michelangelo let out a high-pitched squeal and ran out the door. "Whatever fates conspired to have the two 'a _us_ for 'roommates,'" Raphael muttered, staring out the door after Michelangelo, "they got a sense 'a humor even more twisted than _mine_."

Allison gazed at the grumbling reptile, an almost-invisible smile on her lips. Raphael looked up at her, noticing her expression. "What?" Allison shook her head. "Nothing," she lied. "Just looking forward to my shower." Raphael stared at her levelly. For once, _he_ was the one left wondering what was going on in her head, instead of the other way around. Allison liked that. She liked it a lot. "Right," Raphael finally said. "I better get goin'. Stayin' here too long, that's how rumors get started."

"Right," Allison mimicked. He was about to turn away, but she stuck her hand out towards him. He looked down at it, then back up at her. "Goodbye, Raphael." Instead of shaking her hand, he hit her lightly on the shoulder, allowing a small smile of his own to surface. "Stay outta trouble, kid."

Without another word, Raphael turned and left her alone for the first time in days.

* * *

"Well, well, look who finally picked up her phone."

Sitting back in her chair, Allison laughed quietly. "Hey, Rhys. I meant to call you back, but I got caught up." She ran a hand through her still-damp hair, smiling at how short it was now that she cut it after her shower. "I see," her boss mused on the other end of the line. "Should I even ask what catastrophe befell you to make you ignore all phone calls and e-mails since Sunday?"

"Did you e-mail me?" Allison asked. "I haven't even been on-line. That reminds me, I need to e-mail a friend." She raised an eyebrow at Rhys' somewhat exasperated sigh. "Something wrong?" He asked if she had gotten his message, and her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh! Yes! I'm sorry, Rhys, I've been… out of it for a few days."

"Out of it?"

"Yeah. Believe it or not, I apparently got a bad virus on Monday and don't even remember anything that's happened since that afternoon. I had to be babysat by a couple of friends of mine." It sounded so casual that Allison had to keep the smirk from becoming evident in her voice. Rhys became concerned, and she informed him that the worst was past and she was simply very sore.

At length, he brought up, "So, I finally got around to talking to David Koepp the other day. If you're available, he'd be willing to get together Sunday afternoon and hear out some of your treatments. Mind you, he's only doing it because I sucked up big time to an old friend of his. He said if nothing else, he wouldn't mind taking you on as script supervisor on his next project, which in itself would be enough to get you some well-deserved limelight."

"Terrific," Allison responded, cracking her knuckles as she looked at the laptop in front of her. "I can show him this screenplay I started working on today. I've got about forty pages so far, and might just be done by Sunday morning, if I go at it hard enough." Rhys was amazed. "Forty pages? In one day? Jesus, Allison, it's only three in the afternoon; I thought it took you ages just to write a two-page treatment!" Allison laughed loudly. "It does, Rhys. This one's different, though. I'm really connected to this. It's a bit of a crazy scenario, but I think the characters and dialogue in it are too topnotch to be ignored. I'm inspired, Rhys. I really am."

"Well, that's amazing," Rhys remarked. "Coming out of a four-day illness and sitting down to crank out-… wait a minute. This 'crazy scenario' didn't come to you from some whacked-out dream inspired by loads of medication, did it?" She giggled at the thought.

"Rhys, you wouldn't believe how many times I asked myself that same question."

* * *

"Hey guys, what's happening?"

Leonardo looked up from his book when he heard April's voice as she entered the lair. "Not much, April," he told her. "We just finished getting ourselves mostly situated." From above, Michelangelo's voice suddenly rang out. "Yow! What'd you go and do that for?" Raphael's hoarse voice followed, his words indistinguishable. Seeing Donatello in his corner scratching his head as he worked on his computers and Splinter in another corner attempting to meditate, April looked dryly back at Leonardo. "Business as usual, I see."

Leonardo nodded in affirmation, and Donatello came out from around his table and walked towards them. "Hey April, maybe you can help me out with this. My servers have been down for the past week, and I don't want to think that they've gone kaput. Maybe there's the off-chance that there's something you can do that I can't…?" Amused by Donatello's reluctance to admit defeat in the realm of technology, April replied, "I'd love to, but I'm on a lunch break from the shop. Just thought I'd pop in and give you guys this message that Allison left with me last night."

"Allison left you a message?" Leonardo asked, putting his book down. To his brothers, Donatello called, "Hey guys, come down here! April's got a message from Allison." Leaving his room, Michelangelo taunted, "You mean the future Mrs. Raphael Tortuga." A football came flying out of the entryway, hitting Michelangelo in the back of the head. "Ouch! Hey!" A hand to his head due to a massive headache, Raphael soon emerged, telling the more immature turtle, "Keep that up, 'n it'll be one 'a my sais next time, ya little runt."

After a while, the four turtles and their sensei gathered around April as she took an envelope out of her purse. "Story time!" Michelangelo shouted gleefully. "Give us a dramatic reading, April!" Raphael shook a trembling fist at him, only to have it forced down by Leonardo. "Calm down, Raph," he said warningly before turning to April. "Would you mind reading it out loud, April? It'll make it easier for us to all hear it."

"Sure, guys," April agreed, removing the paper from the envelope and unfolding it. "It's not long at all." Leaning back on the sofa, Raphael muttered, "Then read slow, so I can enjoy the stretch 'a silence comin' from Mikey." Leonardo shot him a cautionary glance as April commenced her reading.

"'Dear Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Mike, and of course, Splinter: It seems so strange to me to think that I've only known of your existence for less than two weeks, and you've already changed literally every facet of my life. I've tried to get in touch via e-mail, but finally decided to do things the old-fashioned way. So much has happened in the week since you've left my apartment, and I wanted to fill you all in before even more changed.

"'This past Sunday, I had a meeting with David Koepp. He's written and/or directed some of the biggest films I've ever seen. I'll bet anything that Mike has at least three of his DVDs, such as _Jurassic Park_.'"

"Dude!" Michelangelo exclaimed before he was shushed by the others.

"'Obviously, this is some big-league stuff,'" April continued reading. "'I was supposed to just tell him about some of my past work, but instead went prepared with a brand new screenplay that I finished typing up just two hours before our meeting. I handed it over to him, telling him all about it and hoping that it didn't sound absolutely preposterous.

"'To make a long story short, he took my script home, read it, and, well, I've got a project! My very own movie already has a director and will be undergoing revisions in the next few weeks. By next month, we'll be starting preproduction, including casting and all of that fun stuff. The working title, to give you an idea of where my "inspiration" came from, is _The Sewer Dwellers_.'"

At the sound of the title, the turtles let out a general exclamation. Michelangelo and Donatello exchanged high-fives, Raphael grinned, Leonardo burst out laughing, and even Splinter cracked a smile. "This is totally awesome!" Michelangelo yelled. "We know someone who's making a movie! Based on _us_!I wonder if she can hire me as an extra." With a chuckle, Raphael smirked, "Why not, Mikey? They won't need to spend much money on monster make-up on ya."

After they quieted down, April continued to recite from the letter. "'So thank you, guys, from the bottom of my heart. You've done more for me than you could ever possibly know. Unfortunately, it seems like I won't have time to take Leonardo up on his training offer. And Mike, you can keep the DVDs. Remember me every time you watch them.'" Not liking where this was going, the turtles leaned in, listening intently.

"'Though the script takes place in New York, David doesn't seem too keen on the idea of actually filming in the sewers. When I stop to think about it, I'm not sure if I want to risk shooting down there either, even though the chances of accidentally stumbling on you are nil. So, once the revisions are complete, I'll be moving to California to work on the set. I don't know how long it will take, so I don't know if I'll be coming back to New York once I'm done.

"'It might just be a better career move for me, in the end. Robert found me a studio apartment just outside of Burbank, so when I'm not at work, I've been packing up my apartment. Because my hours are so eclectic, I don't really know when I'll be home. I'm guessing that things won't quiet down until I'm settled in Cali. So… I guess there _won't_ be video game challenges after all.'"

"'Thank you, Splinter, for being such a wise teacher and raising four very noble sons who've changed the lives of more people than will ever be known. May they continue to make you proud. Thank you, Michelangelo, for being able to find the joke in even the most dire situation, and for letting me be your bud. One day, I'll tell Rosalind about her "Uncle Mikey." Thank you, Donatello, for always being my doctor and for indulging me as I freaked out over the fact that you were sitting at my kitchen table. Here's hoping that there will be a day when such a reaction will be unheard of. Thank you, Leonardo, for the love and bravery you always seem to exude, and for the honor that you've awakened in me. You will be a wonderful teacher some day, even if it's not mine. As for Raphael, thank you for always being there for me and for letting me be there for you, even though you didn't want me to be there. Though I still don't know how it happened, I've become… fond of you.

"'So there's my long farewell. Let's hope it's not forever. Send my best wishes to April and Casey, and I'll keep in touch as best as I can. See you on the red carpet. Allison.'"

There was silence as April quietly folded the letter back into its envelope. After a moment, Michelangelo stated, "Bummer, dude." Donatello nodded in agreement, taking the letter from April's hand and looking over the handwriting. Though he would never say it, he was recollecting the moment at her kitchen table when she constantly apologized for the fault of being human. "Yeah. In the end, she could have made an awesome friend."

"Well, she's not lost to us," Leonardo said, determined not to look at this as a bad thing. "She's going to be tied up with other things, but she _did_ say she was going to keep in touch." Splinter concurred. "Exactly, my son. And besides… I would hardly think that she would very easily forget about you."

"Yeah," April joined in. "I mean, the reason she's even making this film is because of you guys, and she obviously values your friendship if she singled out each and every one of you in her letter. There's no way she can just forget about everything that's happened and all you've done for her. I mean… _I_ won't." With a wry smile, Splinter clarified, "Actually, Miss O'Neil, I was referring to the fact that it would be difficult for anyone to forget about the existence of four talking turtles and their sentient rat sensei."

Before the others could react with laughter, Raphael stood up and began walking back to his room. "Jeez, I dunno what's wrong with you guys. She's just a kid. Nobody special. Who cares if she's movin' to California or Timbuktu? We met other people like her 'n we're just gonna keep runnin' across more, so quit with the long faces before you depress me."

"But Raph," Michelangelo brought up, only half-joking, "You never exactly risked turning into a slobbering, disgusting, turtle-munching monster for anybody else we've met." Michelangelo's comment earned him little else but a dirty look. "Ya just tryin' to get a rise outta me, Mikey. Sometimes I wonder if you're really that stupid or if there's a part 'a ya that's a masochist."

Without another word, Raphael went back up to his room, his brothers watching after him.


	15. Chapter 15

Allison stumbled into her dark apartment.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time she finally got home after her long meeting with David Koepp. Some of her dialogue needed to be reworked, as she was told that it was highly unlikely that any modern-day character would use the word "dude" in his language so much as one of hers did. Apparently, he had never met anyone like Michelangelo. _I doubt if _anyone_ has._

She dropped her keys and pocketbook on the table by her door and stumbled over to her couch, dropping her jacket on the floor on her way. Sinking down onto her sofa, she began to unbutton her shirt with one hand. The other hand fumbled for the lamp at the nearby table. She squinted in the dim yellow light it cast over her.

"Kinda messy lately, ain't ya?"

Allison gasped at the unexpected voice from behind her, quickly grabbing her television remote from the table and throwing it back at what may have been an attacker. She rolled onto the floor, searching for something else to toss when she heard him cry, "Ow! What the shell?"

Warily glancing up from the sofa, Allison saw a familiar form rubbing his chest where the remote hit, her jacket in his hand. "Raphael!" She stood and leapt the couch, meaning to embrace him. He huffily threw her jacket at her. "Some welcome wagon ya got here." She ignored his sarcasm and caught the jacket as she threw herself at him, hugging him. "It feels like forever! Did you get my message? Are you feeling better? Have-"

Raphael indignantly pulled her off of him. "One question at a time, Speedy Gonzalez." He walked around her to the sofa, sitting himself down in the near-darkness. "Yeah, we got your message. And the more I read it, the less I can figure you out." Moving to join him on the couch, she asked what he meant. He looked up at her as he said in a somewhat accusatory tone, "I thought you had your reasons for stayin' in New York. Now you're headed out because some movie hack doesn't wanna get his feet wet and film in our sewers?"

Allison blinked at him. "Raphael… I'm moving on. Isn't that what you wanted?" Raphael rolled his eyes, leaning back into his seat. "No one ever said _I_ wanted anything, so don't even pretend like I got somethin' to do with it." She looked at him silently for a long time. Finally, she said, "I've stopped trying to be what I think people expect… and I'm being me. That's what you said you wanted."

Though he didn't show it, Raphael was stunned. She obviously remembered his heartfelt words to her as she was shifting back into her human form. But… how? And was she going to somehow use this against him?

"So is that it?" Allison asked him quietly. "Did you come here just to chastise me? Just to beg me not to leave while making it seem like you don't really care either way?" Defensively, Raphael snapped, "I'm _not_ beggin'! And I _don't_ care!" Allison laughed quietly as she simply replied, "Liar." Raphael crossed his arms over his chest, muttering to himself. Finally, he spoke, "I just came here to give ya somethin'. If you're gonna be a smartass about it, then I can just go."

It was Allison's turn to be stunned. Give her something? As Raphael stood and reached into his belt, Allison tried to remember if she had left anything in their lair. Her dirty, ruined clothes? A hair accessory? _My sanity is the only thing I can think of,_ she thought, _but I doubt he's carrying that on him right now._

Turning, Raphael handed her something small and rectangular. "It's nuthin' special," he told her, trying not to make a big deal out of it as she accepted it, "but I figured ya could use one to replace the one ya lost." Feeling the heavy weight of it, Allison brought it closer to the light. She smiled as she realized that it was a stainless steel switchblade.

She looked up at Raphael, about to thank him. She didn't get the chance to, as Raphael quickly jumped into an explanation, seeming uncomfortable. "I saw ya carryin' one the night we met. Ya lost it on that mountain-sized moron right after I got shot. I remember thinkin' that most girls that carry protection on 'em don't got the balls to actually use 'em, so I was impressed. Well, as impressed as a guy with a bullet in his chest could be."

Allison laughed quietly, looking back at the gift and thoughtfully releasing the blade. "Just another way for you to protect me, huh?" At her words, Raphael looked away. "Damn you writers. Why you gotta see symbolism in everythin'?" She couldn't help but laugh again as she stood and closed the blade. "I've got something for you too," she told him. He returned his eyes to her, surprised. "… you do?" Allison nodded and went back to her room, telling him to stay there.

As she entered her room and switched on another lamp, Allison wondered what she could give him. She hadn't expected to see Raphael again before her move, and definitely wasn't expecting him to give her a gift. _What to give the turtle that has everything?_ Allison thought wryly as she searched through the boxes of her packed belongings.

Finding something, she grinned as she took it and spun around. She gasped when she saw that Raphael had followed her in and was standing right behind her. "Sorry," he said, noting her startled reaction. "Ninja." Relaxing, she nodded and handed him the manuscript in her hand. "What's this?" Raphael asked, looking down at it as he took it.

"It's a very early version of _The Sewer Dwellers_," she told him. "Back when it was just a narrative in outline form. I wrote it about an hour after you guys left. The movie's different from what's written here, but you might like to see some of my initial thoughts. It's got some notes and stuff written on it." Beginning to grow uncomfortable as he silently thumbed through the twenty pages, she threw in, "If nothing else, it might be worth a bundle on eBay in a few years."

Raphael laughed at her comment, stopping his perusing. After a while, he looked up at her and showed her the page he had stopped at. In the margins, she had drawn a rough sketch of a turtle brandishing a pair of sais. "Good-lookin' guy," he remarked. "Any reason that's the only sketch in here?"

Having forgotten about the absent-minded doodle, Allison shrugged, hoping Raphael's night vision wasn't good enough to detect the small blush rising to her cheeks. "Any reason you're the only one who came to give me a going-away gift?" He said nothing, and the two of them merely stared at one another.

At length, Raphael closed the booklet, telling her, "Thanks. Can't wait to read it." Allison slowly put the knife down on her nightstand. "Thank you," she whispered. "Hope I won't have to use it any time soon." Making his way to the window, Raphael told her, "Yeah well, if ya do, you'll probably be able to handle yourself. And if ya can't… you've got a turtle who's always up for a bit of a scuffle, even if I gotta get to the West Coast before I can do it."

Thinking he was about to jump out of the window and leave, Allison couldn't will herself to move. He didn't leave, however. Raphael opened the window and peered back at her over his shoulder. "You cut your hair," he mentioned. "I liked it better long." Running a hand through her chin-length hair, Allison approached him, saying, "I don't do things anymore just because other people like it. It's my life." As she continued walking towards him, Raphael seemed to think about that, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, it is." He paused for a moment, then offered her his hand. "Goodbye, Allison."

Allison stared at his hand, not expecting the abrupt kindness. Was he serious? Was he really leaving? He hadn't actually asked her to stay. He hadn't asked what she meant in her letter by stating that she was "fond" of him. She felt embarrassed to realize that he hadn't even mentioned anything about her blouse being partially unbuttoned. He hadn't done anything that she would think he would do. But then, he so rarely did.

Finally, she took his offered hand. Instead of shaking it, she used it to pull him closer to her, hugging him once again. Surprised, it took Raphael a few moments before he reacted and obliged to hug her back. She could feel his muscles relax a bit and marveled over the fact that, now that all of her bruises and aches were gone, it was actually nice to hold him against her. "Stay out of trouble, kid," she murmured lowly.

Laughing, they parted and looked at one another. Allison wondered over the bit of sadness she could see in Raphael's eyes, despite the fact that he was wearing a rare smile. Moving away from her, he jumped on the ledge of the window and ducked out. Manuscript tightly in hand to keep it from being blown away by the wind, he turned back to her. "Ya better come back," he remarked slightly threateningly. "And ya better write. If ya don't, I'll use Donny to track ya down. And if he does, you can bet that he's gonna be harassin' me about it, which means I'll be in a pretty pissy mood. So ya better do the smart thing and come back 'a your own free will."

Allison chuckled at his remark, shivering slightly at the cold. "I will. I might not have a place to live immediately afterwards, so I might just be forced to crash with you guys for a bit." Raphael let out a single laugh at her half-joking comment and looked away. "If ya do," he told her, "make sure ya don't walk around with your shirt open like that." Alarmed that he had indeed noticed, she looked down to button her shirt, then glanced back up. Raphael was gone.

Sticking her head out of the window, Allison looked up. She just managed to see a dark shadow disappear over the ledge of her roof. Before he could get too far, Allison hurriedly called out, "Stay safe, Raphael!"

She didn't need to rush her words. As she closed her window and turned back to her new life, Raphael sat atop her roof, opening Allison's manuscript. He looked over her small, impeccable handwriting and watched it become messier and more rushed as the pages wore on. He wasn't even two pages into the outline before he realized that the leader of the group of "sewer dwellers" was a brash, irrational turtle who, despite his knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, always managed to do what was right.

"People don't like my outside anyway," this unnamed character said at one point, "so if they wanna know the real person inside, they gotta earn it." The human girl he was speaking to answered, "Well, I think I've earned it." The mutant responded with, "You don't gotta earn it. You're me, minus a shell. Just find out who you are, and you'll see who I am." _Find out who you are,_ Raphael read again, _and you'll see who I am. That pretty much sums it up, I think. _

Not feeling the cold, Raphael continued to read, already missing the girl who was asleep a few floors below him.

END.

* * *

Author's note- Thank you to everyone who's made it this far. I didn't think that this story would go on as long as it did, but I felt too connected to all of the characters to just let it go so easily. You have just finished reading 110 pages, currently making this my longest fanfic by far. Any comments, questions, criticisms, or anything else would be vastly appreciated. Thank you once again for putting up with my writing, and my utmost gratitude goes out to Mr. Laird and Mr. Eastman for giving me such amazing characters to work with.

–Starry Oblivion


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